God Hates Us
by 666-HyuugaNeji-999
Summary: Cass has been hunting and killing vampires for years, but when she goes after Zacky Vengeance and his family, is all that going to change? An Avenged Sevenfold/vampire-genre fic :P Rated M for violence, adult themes & language. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, me again :) Yes, another band-fic, but this one's already finished, so it shouldn't take too long to get it up here for you guys, depending of course on the reception the first few chapters get. If nobody likes it, then I won't waste all our time posting it, simple as that :P**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avenged Sevenfold, or any lyrics used in this fic [can't remember if there are any, but just in case :)] but plot and original characters are mine, so no takey. Also, personalities and behaviour in this fiction may not be true to the real characters, so please don't get annoyed with me if I've made someone out to be a bitch and they're not really. It's just a story, it's not supposed to reflect their real personalities. **

**[Oh, and I have included Jimmmy Sullivan as a character in this fiction, because it wouldn't be the same without him, but by doing so I mean no disrespect to his memory. The Rev was, and always will be, one of my all-time heroes :'-)]**

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**Chapter 1**

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The last chord resounds through the hall; the crowd goes wild, screaming and surging towards the stage. I let myself be swept forwards with them, not even bothering to feign enthusiasm. It's not necessary in here, where everyone is only concerned with one thing: Avenged Sevenfold.

In all honesty, they _are_ the reason I'm here, but not for the same purpose as everyone else. I'm here purely on business.

I watch as the man who calls himself 'M Shadows' stepped back from the microphone, allowing for another man to take over. _This _is my mark; the one I came here for. Instinctively, my muscles tense and I lean forwards a little to catch a better look at his face. Of course, my eyesight is better trained than most, especially when it comes to this sort of work, but it doesn't hurt to be certain. He speaks - I'm not interested in what he has to say - and the crowd screams again, as he grins and begins the song, singing as he plays his guitar. Somewhere in the back of my mind I recognise the song as 'Seize the Day' (I did my research thoroughly, just in case) but this is unimportant. My eyes pick up something strange and I push easily through the crowd to get a closer look. Yes, it was definitely there that time.

The eyes; that's how you tell them from humans. In every other respect, they can mimic us perfectly. They can speak like us, move like us; they can even train themselves to think like us, but when it comes right down to it, they are not like us. It's shown in the way their eyes react to lights, and in the newly-changed, you can tell by avoidance of bright lights (especially sunlight) and behaviour similar to a junkie suffering from withdrawal.

Oh yeah, and they're immortal, unless I kill them first.

Archaic mythology refers to them as vampires, but I prefer to think of them as vermin. Ever since the kidnapping and brutal murder of my best friend Lucille at the hands of those monsters, I've dedicated my life to fighting and killing as many of them as possible. I'm not alone, there are others who have the same ideals, but I prefer to work alone; companions have held me back in the past and I don't repeat mistakes.

My trusted sources told me three weeks ago that the one who calls himself 'Zacky Vengeance' was in town, touring with his band Avenged Sevenfold. Since then, I've been researching and making plans. As far as I and my sources know, he's the only vamp in the group, which has to mean the other members of the band don't know what they're cozying up to.

Too bad for them.

I won't let him go now, not after what I dug up on him. See, the vermin don't have 'rulers' the same way we do; instead, they have territories, each with its own 'leader', sort of like gangs, but with fifty of sixty members per group. I'd seen some up to a hundred-strong; they'd been a challenge. If the information I've found is correct, the group he leads is small, maximum ten. Not such a challenge.

The song finishes; I haven't been paying attention to the music, instead focusing on keeping my eyes on Vengeance. _If he gets away now, I'll be the laughing stock of the entire human race. _

M Shadows fist-pumps with both hands, yelling something about how great the fans were, how grateful they were for the support and that they'd see them next time etc. etc., before the band file offstage, pausing only to throw some water, guitar picks and drumsticks at the crowd and (in the case of the man known as Synyster Gates, ripping off his shirt and tossing that in too). As the crowd start to leave the room, I push through to the back door where a man is standing, his arms folded, looking for all the world like some kind of bodyguard.

I approach the door; he looks like he's about to block my way, but I wave my ticket at him and smile sweetly. He takes the ticket and reads it carefully, looking me up and down before finally nodding and letting me past. I take the ticket back out of his hand as I pass, muttering about paying good money (which, in truth, I had – backstage tickets to Avenged Sevenfold weren't exactly cheap). The expense will be worth it though, if I get what I came for – evidence of Zacky Vengeance's inhumanity. Solo vigilante or not, I still have principles. I don't kill without proof.

The door at the end of the corridor opens with a creak; I force a blush, smiling shyly as I'm ushered into a small room. The band are sitting around the room on comfy-looking chairs and couches.

"Hey," Shadows says with a smile, indicating an empty chair. "You want a drink?"

"Sure, that'd be great. Thanks," I say, sitting down and acting the over-awed fangirl to the hilt. "I...this is... I can't believe I'm here! This is so awesome! I'm... Oh my god..."

They laugh, Shadows putting a hand on my shoulder as he hands me a can of soda. "So, what's your name?" he asks.

"Emily Page," I lie smoothly, aware of Vengeance watching me. I might be able to easily fool a bunch of humans, but to full-on lie to a vampire was another thing entirely. I'd just have to trust my instincts and stick to the plan.

"Well, Emily, I'm Matt," - he grins - "that's Johnny over there," – Johnny waves and grins too – "Brian," – the guitarist winks, smirking – "Jimmy," – Jimmy gives me a goofy smile – "and Zacky." The last gives a small wave and smirks in a way that I'm sure would make most girls weak. As for me? I can see he's attractive – Hell, they all are! – but I have a job to do. My ultimate intention is to kill this man, and it won't do to start losing my focus.

I take a sip of my drink and force another shy smile, then reach down to my bag and pull out some folded sheets of paper. "Oh, I almost forgot! I brought something."

"Ooo..." Brian chuckles, leaning forwards.

"I drew these for you guys," I say a little sheepishly, passing them to each person. An old colleague of mine had sketched out some fine-line Manga-style pictures of the band for me, so that I'd be able to implement the next stage of my plan (my own drawing skills are beyond crappy).

"Wow, these are awesome!" Johnny Christ exclaims, holding his up.

"Thanks." I smile, passing the last one over to Vengeance. As he takes it, I 'accidentally' catch my finger on the corner, leaving a drop of blood on the corner of the paper. I watch his expression intently, pretending to be concerned about what he thought of my picture. It doesn't take long; as he catches the scent of my blood, his eyes darken ever-so-slightly and his nostrils flare. The whole thing is over in less than a second, and anyone with less than needle-sharp eyes would've missed it. He glances up, catching my eye, and smiles. "This is really good," he says, leaning over to look at the other drawings.

I smile in return, no longer having to feign my happiness (only the reason for it). I have my proof – I can push my schedule forward. I hadn't intended to make my move for another week, but that had been planned before I knew how easily I'd get my evidence.

The rest of the 'meet-and-greet' goes quickly, with me getting their signatures on several photos, a couple of posters and a T-shirt – I'll sell them on eBay and make some cash. When it's time for me to leave, I get a hug from each of them (a kiss on the cheek from Brian – I force a girlish giggle and blush furiously). Finally it's Zacky's turn. I have to tell myself not to tense up, not to recoil from such intimate proximity with the creature I'm hunting.

It strikes me how odd it is that he's been able to hide his true nature from his band-mates for so long. Then again, all self-respecting vampires learn to become skilled at hiding their nature from the rest of the world. It only makes them more God-damned dangerous.

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**So what d'ya think? Worth a review? ^_^**

**Sorry this one's a bit short, there are longer ones on the way :P **

**Next one up soon! :)**

**xoxox  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Next part :) **

**I wonder if anyone's actually reading this... If they are, a review or two would be great :P (hint hint) **

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**Chapter 2**

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I quickly check my appearance in the reflective back of my iPod, then lock it in the glove-compartment. Perfect. After he got so close three days ago, I can't afford to take any chances. My disguise is light, but it's worked plenty of times before – no reason why it shouldn't work tonight.

My hair has changed from a light blonde-brown to glossy black, with pale blue and purple streaks, and I've cut it short and choppy, completing it with a cute black bow clip. My makeup is simple; a sweep of black eyeliner round each eye with a smudge out to each side, with just a little silver shadow, and silvery lip-gloss, as well as coloured contact lenses to change my normal colour from blue to deep green. But it's the clothes that complete the look: black hip-hugging jeans, black stiletto knee-high boots and a black corset-style top, with silver bracelets and rings, as well as silver earrings in the shape of Celtic daggers decorated with glass beads (a cute accessory, but with practical uses as well).

Oh, and a silver-edged knife strapped to my calf inside my left boot. Just in case.

The bouncer on the door looks me up and down (this is getting repetitive) before finally letting me in. I know for a fact he's scoping my ass as I walk past, but I see no reason to discourage this if it helps me get what I want. Once I'm inside the club, my instincts are on high alert. This is a known vamp hangout, a place where they find their victims and lure them out back so they can... Well, you get the idea.

My prey is at the bar, chatting to a pretty girl about my age. Hard to tell from this distance with the strange lighting, but I'm pretty sure she's human. Easing through the throng, I reach the bar and take a seat, perusing the bottles behind as if I'm choosing my drink. It doesn't really matter what I have; I'm not actually going to _drink_ it. I can't risk my judgement or perceptions being impaired. When I complete my mission, _then_ I'll celebrate, but until then, I've got to keep my mind clear.

"Hey." Someone speaks behind me; I turn to see a young man, a few years older than myself and not entirely unattractive. "You want some company?"

"I'm fine, thanks." I turn away, but he puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me back round.

"Come on, baby, don't be like that..." He grins, running his eyes over my chest and legs.

"Take your hand off me." I don't raise my voice, but something in my tone makes him back off.

He seems about to protest, but changes his mind walks away, muttering something I don't bother to listen to. My attention is fully focused on the man standing five feet away. He seems to have lost the girl though; he's standing alone, leaning on the bar and pretending to sip at what looks like a JD and Coke. Feeling my gaze on him, he turns his head and catches my eye. I see a spark of interest, but nothing to show he recognises me.

_Showtime. _

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It's amazing what a little makeup and tight clothing can do. It takes barely five minutes of furtive glances and smiles before he's interested, then a subtle beckon as I get up and walk towards the back door.

I count eleven seconds before he follows me out of the door, then another three before his lips are locked on mine and he pushes me against the wall. I can tell he's done this a thousand times before; he's confident, hands all over my neck, my ass, holding my hips closer. I can feel his lip-piercings, cold against my skin and take the initiative, leaning closer and grasping a handful of his hair. He takes this as an act of passion and I feel him smile, then spin him around so that he's the one against the wall. It's a well known fact that men love it when women take control, and this man, human or not, is no exception. He growls lightly, not breaking the kiss, as I bend my left leg, raising it so my knee is resting against the wall and grazing his hip, in the same movement unsheathing the silver blade hidden inside my boot.

"Don't make a sound," I say softly, pressing the blade against the side of his neck, my right hand still gripping a handful of his hair.

He stares back balefully, but keeps his mouth shut. Smart move.

I don't bother with wooden stakes or holy water; neither of them works. No, the only way to kill a vamp is a silver blade to the heart or decapitation. To torture one you need to get more creative. I've heard silver-nitrate injections are highly effective.

"How many are there?"

He doesn't reply, but just stares at me, his eyes filled with contempt. I'm slightly impressed, despite myself. He has to know that one sideways jerk of my hand and the wall behind him would have a new colour scheme.

I press the blade a little harder; a trickle of dark blood runs down his neck and stains the collar of his shirt. "How many?"

"Fuck you."

I laugh quietly, keeping the knife on him but removing my other hand from his hair, reaching instead to my ear, removing an earring. Using my nail, I break the little glass sphere at the top of the earring and let the drops of liquid run down the minute blade, then touch the needle-sharp point to the skin just above his collar-bone. His eyes follow it, but his expression betrays nothing as I prepare to drive the point through his skin, releasing the only substance capable of causing a vampire excruciating pain into his bloodstream.

But then, his expression changes. His face still holds a look of contempt and hatred, but now his eyes hold something else.

_Triumph? _

I barely have time to register that before something smacks into my back, knocking me to the ground. I land with a barely audible _thud_, already rolling onto my feet, the knife still clutched tightly in my hand. Unfortunately, I don't see the third man behind me; he grabs my upper arms, holding me with a strength that couldn't be attributed to a human. Before I can struggle, or scream, he finds a pressure point on the side of my neck and squeezes until I black out.

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**Sorry, another short one =/ But the next one will be a lot longer, I promise :P**

**Hope people are liking it so far, please review and let me know what you think :)**

**Byeee ^_^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we go, part three. As far as I know, only one person has looked at this yet, but I'm ever hopeful :P**

**Please review!**

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**Chapter 3**

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_~Zacky's POV~_**

"Bloody hell, Zack! What part of 'Don't make out with hunters' did you _not_ get?"

"Fuck off, Brian," I growl, dabbing at the cut on my neck with a damp towel. _Fucking tell me what to do..._ I mutter inwardly, knowing full well Brian can hear me. He starts to say something, then stops. _Yeah, back in your box, smart-ass. _

Matt walks in, a slight smirk on his face, followed closely by Johnny. I look up, frowning slightly.

"What're you so happy about?"

Johnny chuckles. "You found a looker this time. Better than the last one."

For some reason, this makes me angry. I stand up, dropping the bloody towel and taking a step forwards. "Keep your hands off her. She's mine."

They look taken aback for a moment, but accept my words without protest.

"If you say so, Vengeance." Johnny sits on the other end of the couch, crossing his legs and leaning his head back. Matt walks past into the kitchen, but I distinctly hear him mutter something along the lines of "Who said anything about_ hands_?"

"I'd better go check on her," I say, walking towards the door.

"Hey!" Johnny chucks the bloodied towel at me.

I catch it and press it to my neck where, lo and behold, it's _still_ bleeding. "Right. See you guys later." And with that, I leave the room, heading upstairs.

Before I get halfway up, I hear a banshee shriek, followed by a crash. I chuckle lightly and continue, wondering what she'd broken and whether it would need replacing.

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**_~Cass's POV~_**

I look down at the mess of shattered crystal, scattered flowers and spreading pool of water on the floor with a slight feeling of vindictive glee. _I bet that was expensive._

I'd woken up on an old-fashioned four-poster about ten minutes ago, stripped of everything but my bra and panties, my hands cuffed to the bedposts. Attempts to wriggle out of the cuffs had resulted in several cuts and scratches on my wrists and hands; the blood trickling down my arms is infuriating, an itch I can't scratch. Furious at my predicament, I'd kicked out at the table beside the bed, knocking what looked like an antique crystal vase onto the floor where it smashed, the sound ricocheting off the walls.

The door swings slowly open. Vengeance walks in, a bloodstained towel pressed to his neck, barely glancing at the mess on the floor. He steps around the puddle of water until he is right beside the bed, barely a foot away. I think about kicking him, but that would be ineffective and childish. Instead, I ignore him, staring fixedly at the open door.

"Tch." He shakes his head. "Someone's gonna have to clean that up, you know."

I don't reply; my eyes remain fixed on the doorway until he leans closer and touches the blood running down my arm.

"Hmmm." He brings the blood-smeared finger to his mouth. "Mmm, you taste good."

My heartbeat quickens; I curse my weak human body for responding with fear. Fighting to keep my expression blank, I'm pleased that my poker-face is unaffected by the situation.

"What do you want?" I say stiffly.

He chuckles. "World peace. A cold beer. For hunters like you to stop your pathetic attempts at killing my family."

It's my turn to laugh. "Why would we do that, when you're killing us one by one?"

"I've never killed a human." He says it without expression, his face blank.

"And why would I believe that?" I scoff, raising my eyebrows. "Your kind kill every day, I've seen it."

He sighs quietly, closing his eyes for a second. "You're prejudiced against us, because of the actions of a few stupid individuals? That is _so_ human..."

"What do you want?" I repeat my question.

"What do _I_ want? I want you to stop trying to kill me, for one. I'll unlock those, if you promise to behave?" He pointed to the cuffs.

I think about it for a moment. In my current state, still weak from being knocked out, not to mention weapon-less, it would pointless to try and attack, but if he let me go, I might be able to escape. "Fine."

"You promise?" He grins cheekily, making me want to smack the expression right off his face.

"Yeah, whatever. Promise."

"Good." He leans over again and fiddles with the locks; I hear a clatter as the metal cuffs slide from my wrists, then bring my arms down, almost crying out from the pain. My shoulders protest violently, but I force them to work as I stretch my muscles out, then bring my wrists up to examine the cuts. They're superficial, not life-threatening, so I ignore them for the moment.

"Let me see."

He reaches for me, but I snatch my hands away. "Don't touch me, vermin!"

"That's not very nice." He says it reprovingly, like a school-teacher, but grabs my hands anyway and holds them up so he can inspect the cuts. "Hmmm. Hang on."

He gets up, walking into what turns out to be a little en-suite bathroom. While he's gone, I look at the windows – barred, with several padlocks on each – and the door – triple bolted and locked from the outside as well as in.

"Don't try and get out, it won't work," he calls, making me frown. Can he hear my thoughts?

"Yep."

_Sodding..._ _Damn. _

"I know. Bummer, ain't it?"

_Get the _fuck_ out of my head. _

"If you like." Vengeance comes back out of the bathroom, carrying a small rectangular box. Sitting on the bed beside me, he opens it and takes out some white bandages and surgical tape, as well as a tube of what looks like antiseptic cream. I don't bother to protest as he takes my right hand and begins to apply the cream, then carefully wraps the bandages round and secures the ends with the tape. His hands are cold, making me suppress a shiver, but his movements are surprisingly gentle. He finishes with my right hand and moves to my left, frowning in concentration as he ensures the bleeding has stopped. My eyes flick to the open box beside my freed right hand; there's a pair of scissors inside, the three-inch blades glinting in the low lights. If I hesitate, even for a second, he'll hear what I'm thinking and stop me.

We both move in a blur. I grab the scissors and, in the same smooth movement, drive the sharp double-blades into his arm, just below the elbow. He roars with pain and lets go of my hand, ripping the scissors out of his arm, then smacks me across the face; the force of the backhanded blow throws me against the wall behind the bed. He snarls, his eyes flashing silver and his sharp white teeth bared. I notice with a jolt that his canines are suddenly longer than they should be.

It's all over in less than a heartbeat, but it's enough to have my pulse racing and start adrenaline buzzing through my veins. _Is this it? _I wonder. _Is this where he rips my throat out and drains me dry?_

After several extremely long seconds, he closes his mouth, hiding the nightmarish teeth. His eyes flick to the small but deep wound in his arm and he frowns in annoyance. "That hurt," he says quietly, turning his eyes back on me. Their silvery sheen has gone from his blue-green eyes; he looks at me, irritated, but doesn't do anything. My eyes are drawn to the small cut, the trickle of dark blood running over his tattoos. As I watch, the cut seals itself, the flow of blood halting within seconds. _Of course... They weren't silver. _

"You promised you'd behave," he mutters, grabbing my wrists again and gripping them in one hand as he reaches for the handcuffs.

"Fuck you!" I struggle, freeing one hand and slamming a fist into his jaw. The force of the blow pushes him back a little but he brushes it off, locking my other hand into the cuffs. I swing round for another punch but he catches my fist and secures it to the bedpost. _Dammit..._ I kick out at him, but he holds my legs down with one hand and leans forwards.

"You promised," he repeats, looking directly into my eyes.

"I lied," I reply, staring right back.

"Fine." He gets up and walks out of the room without another word, locking the door, leaving me alone.

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**Well, let me know if you like it (if anyone's even reading this):P**

**See ya! xoxox  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Message to anyone reading this story: please review! It'd be great to know that someone is appreciating my work :P **

**Sorry for delays, my laptop threw a wobbly at me and lost all my files, it took me ages to find them all again. **

**Again: reviews please! :)  
**

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**Chapter 4  
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**After I've stared at the closed door for about half an hour, I come to the conclusion that I really am alone. Ignoring the pain from my abused face and wrists, I take the opportunity to study my surroundings.

As I've already seen, the window and door are locked and double locked. _No escape route there, then. _The bed-sheets I'm lying on are black, silk by the feel, and the carpet matches. The walls are dark gray, the paper patterned with silver in the shape of spirals, vines and tiny silver stars. There isn't much to say about the contents of the room. There's an antique dressing table with a three-piece vanity mirror and a few bottles scattered across the top, and a large dark-wood wardrobe. The rest of the room is bare walls and carpet.

_How the _fuck _do I get out of this?_

Even if I could reach my ear, which I couldn't, a slight shake of my head told me they'd taken out my other earring so I couldn't pick the locks. _Dammit._

I've been in scrapes before (Hell, I've almost died like six times!) but this was different. Instead of killing me quickly, as is a vamps' preferred method, he's keeping me chained up here like an animal. But why?

_If you're going to kill me, just fucking get on with it! _I roar inside my head, knowing full well someone would be able to hear me.

"We're not going to kill you."

My head jerks up and I see another man standing in the room, leaning against the closed door. Short, spiky blonde hair with black patches, silver ring in the side of his nose and a silver stud in each ear. It takes me a few seconds, but then I recognise him.

It's Johnny Christ.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, frowning.

He chuckles, taking a step forward. "I live here, honey."

I start to form a question, but change tack mid-word. "Wha...Who are you? I mean really, who are you?"

"You'd have been better off asking the first question you were planning to ask," he says, grinning and revealing sharp white teeth.

"So you're all vampires?" _I knew it._

"Yep." He glances down at the mess on the floor, then chuckles again. "Val is not gonna be pleased. She loved that vase."

"Why are you keeping me here?" I demand, uninterested in the vermin's small-talk.

He steps closer until he's standing right by the bed, looking down at me. "Because," he says simply.

"_Why_?"

"Does it matter?"

I don't reply.

"Are you hungry?" he asks suddenly.

"What?" I frown, sure I'd misheard him.

"Are you hungry?" he repeats, looking at me expectantly.

I open my mouth to tell him no, I'm not fucking hungry, but my treacherous stomach answers for me. I look down at it angrily, then say instead with a resigned sigh, "...Yeah, I guess." _What's the catch?_

"No catch. I'll go fix you some food." And with that, he leaves the room, opening and closing the door silently.

_That explains why I didn't hear him come in._ Damn_ these vampires!_

With nothing else to do, I'm stuck admiring the wallpaper. By the time Christ comes back, I could probably reproduce the pattern from memory if I wanted.

"I hope you like Italian?" he says, holding out a plate of what looks like pasta carbonara.

_It's probably poisoned_. I eye the plate suspiciously.

"Come on, it's like you said: If we wanted to kill you, we would've done it already. And we wouldn't need to resort to using poison either, as you should know."

I wriggle my hands in the cuffs, making a loud clattering noise. "How am I supposed to eat like this?" I ask, hoping to persuade him to unlock my bindings.

No joy. Instead, he sits on the side of the bed, holds up a forkful of pasta and grins. "Open wide!"

It's humiliating, being fed like a child, but I can't ignore the glaringly obvious facts that I am extremely hungry, and that the food is _delicious_. It's a wrench when the plate is empty; he spots my look of longing and laughs.

"There's more in the kitchen, if you want?"

I shake my head. "No." Then I think for a moment, and ask, "Where is this?"

"It's my home."

"No, I mean town, state."

Now he shakes his head. "Sorry, can't tell you that."

_Didn't think you would. _I suddenly shiver, realising how cold the room is. "Can I..." I trail off, hating the pleading note in my tone, but then carry on as I shiver again. "Can I have my clothes back?"

"...I don't know." He eyes me for a moment; I stare back, keeping my expression neutral. But then he gets up and walks to the door. "I'll ask."

I don't bother to thank him; showing civility to vampires is not my style. Within thirty seconds he's back, this time carrying a small bundle in his arms. He drops it on the bed and reaches up to unlock one of the cuffs. Before it's open, however, he freezes.

"Zacky tells me you're a treacherous bitch," he says in a conversational tone.

"Oh?" I don't even bother to feign interest.

"I'm not gonna threaten to kill you or anything like that, but just to let you know: if you try anything, and I mean _anything_, I'll leave you chained up here naked."

"Whatever. I won't 'try anything'."

He nods, continuing to unlock my shackles. Once my hands are freed I start to pull on the clothes he brought. They aren't the ones I was wearing before, but they're warm, so I'm not complaining. The pile turns out to consist of a pair of dark-wash blue jeans, a black Batman T-shirt, some socks and a large, plain-black zip-up hoody. He watches me dress, but there's no point in asking him to turn around; he's seen me in my underwear already.

Once I'm fully clothed, he holds up a pair of shoes: white and black chequered Vans. I slip them on, grateful to find that they're the right size. There's nothing worse than having to wear shoes that don't fit.

"You're welcome," he says, a little tersely, when I don't say anything.

"I'm sure." I look at him. Now that I'm standing up, he's not as tall as I thought he was. "Look, as far as I'm concerned, _you_ kidnapped _me_, so I have no reason to be polite to you."

"Whatever." He goes to leave the room.

"Wait," I blurt out, before I can stop myself.

He stops, turning around with a quizzical look on his face. "What?"

"...Do I have to stay in here?"

"You want to come out?"

I shrug my shoulders slightly. "Beats sitting in here all day."

"I don't know..." He looks a little worried. "If you promise to be good, I guess it'd be okay..."

"I promise." I look at him steadily.

"Well...Okay. But I'll lock you right back in here if you so much as _think_ about trying anything. And I'll know." He taps the side of his head, then eyes me pointedly until I nod. "Alright, come on then."

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He unlocks the door and, gripping me by the arm tightly, starts to walk me down the stairs. It's the first time I've seen this area of the house, having been unconscious when they brought me in. The walls are papered in a similar style to the room I was kept in, a dark gray background with silver plants and stylised animals dancing across it, and every window has thick velvet curtains hanging to the floor. There's a marble statue on the second landing - _there must be at least three floors in this place!_ – shaped like a woman with her hands held over her eyes.

We reach what must be the ground floor and Johnny pauses before pushing the dark wood door open, dragging me firmly but not roughly behind him into the room.

"Johnny? What are you _doing_?"

The others are all there: Shadows, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall beside an empty fireplace with a book in his hands, and Gates, Vengeance and Sullivan sat at the table playing cards. When we walk in, they all look up, then get up from their seats to stand in a line in front of us. The movement almost makes me jump, it's so fast.

Shadows opens his mouth to speak, but then Vengeance steps forwards. "Johnny, what is this?" he asks, his voice quiet and expressionless.

Johnny looks a little worried, but holds his ground as he says, "She's promised to be good, and I won't let her out of my sight. I just thought... It doesn't seem fair to leave her up there all day."

"Have you already forgotten what happened last time the bitch promised she'd behave?" Zacky snaps; my eyes move to his arm, where I can see a tiny pink line cutting across one of his tattoos.

"That was a mistake," Johnny says, to my surprise. "She won't do it again, right?" He turns to me with a look in his eyes that clearly says: _Play along.  
_

"Yeah. I shouldn't have done that." I take a deep breath, then force myself to continue. "I'm...I'm sorry."

The others seem appeased by this, but Vengeance's eyes narrow. He doesn't look convinced by my apology (and to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't be either).

"You're sorry for what you did?" he says softly, stepping forward until he's right in front of me. I nod; I can feel Johnny tensing through the grip he still has on my upper arm, but then Zacky smiles.

"Okay."

"Uhm... What?" I'm confused; I don't trust this creep at all, even less so when he smiles.

"I'll let Johnny explain." He chuckles, then turns away. The others take that as their cue to go back to their card game, this time Matt joining them at the table.

"Yeah, _Johnny_. Why _don't_ you explain?" I say, turning to face him.

"Let's sit down?" he suggests, pointing to the couch. We sit; he removes his hand from my arm, but keeps his eyes fixed on me in case I make any sudden moves. I know he can move a hell of a lot faster than me, anyway.

"So. Why am I being kept here?" I ask, keeping one eye on the others while I listen to Johnny's answer. I know they're all listening, but to their credit, they have the grace to pretend they're not.

"Basically... It's so you can't kill any more vampires. Zacky doesn't want to kill you, but he can't risk you bringing more hunters and wiping out his family...us." He looks apologetic and I'm about to say something angry, but one word he'd said had caught my attention.

"Family? I thought your species weren't the sentimental type?" I say with a frown.

"It's complicated... The cliffnotes version: We've been brothers, technically if not genetically, for over fifty years – at least, that's how long I've been with them. I'm the youngest, in human _and_ vamp years, so they must've been together for over a hundred years or something. Most vamp clans are structured like a hierarchy – the leader and his mate, commanding the others as they wish, and the underlings have to obey, no matter what. Oh yeah, and in other clans, only the leader is allowed to have a life-mate, while the others have to satisfy their needs with temporary partners who usually end up getting killed or replaced."

I know most of this already, so I don't comment on the off-hand way he says that. I've seen it happen before; it's a fact of this life and doesn't faze me anymore.

He continues. "We're not like that. Yeah, we've got Zacky, he's the oldest, and sort-of our leader, but he doesn't boss us around and most of the time if we need to make a decision, we do it together. And we can have girlfriends if we want, but for practical reasons we stick to our own species. Matt's got Val, Brian's got any girl he wants and Jimmy's probably got someone too but you can never be sure with him. No offence, man!" he adds with a glance over his shoulder. Sullivan gives him a two-fingered salute without looking up, but I can see he's grinning.

I laugh despite myself. Anyone spending five minutes in the same room with Sullivan could see he's a little...odd. You could tell that Gates was a ladies' man, just by looking at him; I remember Johnny mentioning how 'Val' would not be pleased I broke her precious vase. But then I frown again.

"What about you and him?" I jerk my thumb over at where Vengeance is still playing cards (though judging from the look on his face, not very well).

"Well, I - I just haven't found the right girl yet, I guess... And Zack? That's...personal. Sorry." He grimaces, but I don't push.

It's not like I really care anyway; I just wanted to show some interest. It would be more useful to try and stay on his good side for the time being. "Right."

"So... Tell me 'bout yourself?" He looks at me hopefully. I can tell he really wants to have a conversation, and after a few seconds, I relent.

"My name's Cassandra," I make a face, "but my friends call me Cass – suit yourself. Last name's Flynn. I used to live with my family, but now I have to move around a lot. The job, you know," I add, seeing his slightly confused expression. He nods, waiting for me to go on.

"So... What do you want to know?" I ask him, not wanting to go through my whole family history.

"Um..." He thinks for a moment. "Why did you become a vampire hunter?"

I groan inwardly. I'd been hoping nobody would ask me that. "My best friend... She was practically my sister. We did everything together, worked in the same store, lived on the same street, liked the same music, films, you name it.

"She was on her way to my place after work. I'd had the day off sick, so she was coming over to see how I was. But she never showed. Wouldn't answer her cell. Three days later, I went to her place to see if she was okay. There were cop cars outside, and her mother was crying. She told me Lucille had been kidnapped."

Johnny's eyes are wide; he seems on the verge of saying something, but, oddly, I feel like I have to finish the story, now I've started.

"I was starting to get over it, when about two weeks later, I had a phone call. From the cops. They'd found a body, dumped in the street six block away. I had to go down to the Coroner's and ID the victim, 'cause her mother couldn't do it."

I pause for a second, then continue, swallowing hard. "It was her. She'd had her throat ripped out, her body drained of blood. Of course, I didn't know anything about vampires then, but once I saw that, I started researching, asking questions. Eventually, I found some people who taught me to fight."

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**Well, there's part four, hope you liked**

**As always, reviews are very much appreciated, even if they're telling me I'm doing something wrong :) **

**Peace out ^_^**

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	5. Chapter 5

**I repeat my message from earlier: please review! If you're out there, and you're reading this, please let me know if you like it :P  
**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

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I open my eyes to find myself in the same room I'd woken up in yesterday. Frowning, I try and remember what happened the day before, but I can't recall walking back up the stairs. The window beyond the bars is dark; it must be late. It's late summer, so that would put the time at anywhere between 8 pm and 6 am. Not very helpful.

Sitting up, I notice I'm not chained to the bed and get up, looking down to see I'm wearing different clothes: black jogging pants and a black T-shirt with grey skulls all over it. _They... fucking _undressed_ me? _

"Sorry. Didn't think you'd want to sleep in your clothes."

I start, turning sharply to see Johnny lounging on a chair in the corner. He had the grace to look guilty, at least. "How did I get up here?" I ask.

"I carried you up."

"You what?"

"You were asleep, so I carried you up." He shrugs.

I'm not happy about this, but there's no point in shouting at him. "What time is it?"

He pauses for a split second. "It's 2 o'clock in the morning."

"How do you know? You didn't look at a watch."

He shrugs again. "It's a vamp thing. So's the mind-reading. And speed. We can move a lot faster than humans. But you already know that."

I nod. "Yeah, I knew about the mind-reading. Didn't know you could all do it though."

"Some of us are better at it than others. We can all do it to an extent, but I'm better at it than the others. Well, I've got the longest range, but Zack's more accurate than me, especially when it comes to people he knows well."

"Oh, right." _Makes sense, I guess. _

"That doesn't scare you?" he asks, cocking his head slightly on one side and frowning.

"It used to. Not anymore." I don't go into detail; there doesn't seem to be much point.

"It used to scare the shit out of me, too."

He looks at me for a moment, then sits on the edge of the bed, patting the covers hopefully. After a few seconds, I sit down, but on the other side of the bed and keeping my feet on the floor, ready for anything.

I think for a moment, then ask tentatively, "How did you..."

"Become a vampire?" He chuckles. "It's not a very interesting story, but if you really want to know... I was changed about fifty years ago, maybe fifty-one. I forget. I was only 24 when it happened.

"I was walking to my girl's place. It was dark, very late, but I couldn't go in the daytime 'cause her father hated me. Thought I was a bad influence, when it was _him_ driving her to drinking and smoking, not me. _I_ was trying to get her to lay off the stuff.

"Anyway, I was just around the corner, when someone grabbed me from behind, told me to hand over my money. They had a gun on me, so I handed it over, but I didn't have a lot. Nobody in my neighbourhood did, back then. When they saw there wasn't much, they got real pissed, shot me twice then took off. I really thought I was going to die, lying in the street with my blood pouring out, but then Zacky appeared. I didn't know who he was then, but he said he was going to help me. It hurt so much, worse than being shot, what he did to me that night, but it's thanks to him that I'm still around today, even if I'm not technically _alive_ by your standards."

I'm silent for a minute, then I say suddenly, "Why are you being so nice to me? The others hate me; why don't you?"

He doesn't reply for a moment, then says slowly, "I guess... I still remember exactly how it feels to be human. They can remember it too, but for me it's still a huge part of my life, and I guess that makes me more...sympathetic."

"You didn't answer my question."

He frowns slightly, then nods. "You're right; I didn't."

"...So are you going to?" I say, exasperated.

"They don't hate you. And neither do I. They just..."

"...Don't like me very much?" I supply, with a half-hearted chuckle. "Well, to be fair, I'm not too fond of you people either."

"_I_ don't dislike you."

There's a pause. For a few seconds, he looks as if he can't quite believe what he just said.

"I'm sorry, what?" I'm very confused.

"I didn't say I liked you. I just don't..._dis_like you." He smiles sadly and looks away. "You remind me of my Lacey."

"Lacey? Oh, your girl."

He nods, still looking sombrely at his knees. "She had your spirit, your fight. You would've liked her," he adds, looking up and turning his head sideways.

"Right." _Why is he telling me this?_

"Good question."

"Ugh, I forgot about that." I make a face.

He chuckles, then tilts his head slightly on one side. "You hungry?" he asks, looking down at me.

I shrug. "Yeah, I guess. What's for dinner, mom?"

"Hah. You wanna cook?"

"Eh?" Now I'm really confused.

"You like cooking, right?" he says, frowning a little.

"Well, yeah, but I never told you that..." Now I'm frowning.

He looks uncomfortable. "I have my means," he says evasively, before saying with a sense of finality, "So d'you wanna cook or not? I will, if you won't. I'm hungry too."

"I thought you people didn't eat?" I'm genuinely interested now; nothing I've seen or read has told me anything other than that vampires don't eat human food after they turn. They don't need to.

"Well, we're not supposed to, but..." He leans in, with an air of someone telling a grave secret. "I miss it. Pizza, especially. It was my favourite."

"Before you died?" I finish.

He nods. "I don't think of it like that, but yeah, I guess you're right."

I sit for a few more seconds, then get up and say, "Right, that settles it. I'm cooking pizza."

A smile breaks across his face and he gets up too, beating me to the door and holding it open for me. "After you."

"Thanks." It's weird for me to be so polite to a vampire, but for some reason, Johnny doesn't repulse me like the others do. Maybe it's like he said: he's only been one for half a century, so he still remembers what it's like to be fully human.

We get to the kitchen and find Shadows sitting at the table, drinking what looks like beer. Upon closer inspection, I see that the bottle is filled with something darker, opaque.

Nice.

"'Sup, Johnny. Cass."

I almost clench my fists at his uninvited use of my nickname, but let it go, ignoring his greeting and turning instead to the fridge and opening it. "Hmmm..." I find a lot of bottles which I'm sure are filled with innocent people's blood, but don't pass comment. Instead, I look through the drawers in search of human food. Behind me, I can hear Johnny and Shadows talking.

"What's going on?" Shadows asks, sounding amused.

"She was hungry," Johnny replies, "and I said she could cook. Zacky said I could do what I wanted with her, so I'm letting her do what she wants."

"How nice." Now Shadows sounds disparaging, but it seems like he's making fun of Johnny, rather than me.

"Whatever, dude. If it keeps her out of trouble, it's good for all of us."

"Fair point."

I turn around, my hands full of tomatoes, mushrooms and roast chicken. "I thought you people didn't eat?" I repeat my question from earlier, but this time direct it at Shadows.

He chuckles, then replies, "Sometimes it's necessary to do a little wining-and-dining."

"What, before you rip their throat out and suck them dry?"

He laughs out loud then, saying after a few seconds, "Not quite, honey."

"What do you mean?" _Do I want to know?_

"Even we need to get laid once in a while, babe." He says this with a slight smirk, watching for a horrified reaction.

I don't oblige, but respond only with one raised eyebrow and a sardonic, "So where d'you get the supplies?", pointing at the fridge.

"Blood banks, mostly," Johnny supplies, taking the food from my hands and placing it on the table, then grabbing a chopping board and a knife from a drawer.

"You steal it?"

"I guess you could call it that, yeah." Shadows eyes the knife, which is lying on the table, inches from my hand. "You sure that's a good idea, Johnny?"

"What's she gonna do? It's not silver, and anyway, she knows we're faster and stronger than her."

He looks at me pointedly, and I nod wearily. "I promise I won't try and kill anyone."

Shadows finishes his drink and takes the bottle over to the sink, rinsing it out and tossing it in the trash. "Fine, but if she stabs me, I'm not speaking to you anymore."

Johnny and I both smile slightly at that, then frown a little as Shadows sits back down, folding his arms.

"Uh...what're you doing?" Johnny asks.

"What, can't a guy sit where he wants? Besides, there's nothing else to do, and Jimmy's playing his video games so I can't watch TV." He sounds so put out by this that I almost laugh.

"That okay with you, Cass?" Johnny asks, looking at me.

I nod once. "Fine, I guess."

We don't move for a few seconds, frozen like a diorama in a museum, then I shrug lightly and turn to the table and start chopping.

It's odd, but once I've started cooking, it almost feels like I'm back at home again. I remember cooking things like this for my little brother, Simon, back before all this started. Thinking about Simon made me remember something Johnny had said earlier.

"Hey, when you said I was being kept here 'cause Zacky doesn't want to kill me, how long were you talking?"

He doesn't answer for a minute, and Shadows doesn't offer any suggestions either. Eventually, Johnny says, "He wants to keep you here indefinitely, Cass."

For a few seconds, his words don't quite sink in, but then my fist clenches and I slam my hand down on the table. "What the fuck! You can't just-"

"We can." Shadows doesn't sound amused or sarcastic anymore; instead he almost sounds pitying.

I open my mouth to say something angry and filled with expletives, when a stab of pain makes me look down. I'd slammed my arm down onto the knife, and as a result had given myself a long jagged cut which was already seeping blood. "Fuck." I look back up at the other two, then tense automatically, picking up the knife in my other hand.

Johnny is stood stock still, staring at my arm as though transfixed. Shadows is standing up, his eyes darkening visibly; if he opens his mouth, I'm sure I'll see the same nightmarish fangs Zacky had displayed before. He doesn't get the chance, though, as Johnny suddenly unfreezes and moves so that he is between Shadows and myself. "Matt. I think you should leave," he says quietly.

Another throb of pain makes my eyes drop to my arm, which is bleeding freely in a red stream.

Matt doesn't move.

"Matt. Get out," Johnny repeats, pushing against his chest. Finally, he seems to snap out of it, and slowly turns away.

"That's gonna need stitches," he says casually over his shoulder, but I can see the struggle it was to tear himself away; there are finger marks depressed into the table at the side where he'd been sitting. He only hesitates for a second at the door before exiting.

Johnny turns, his eyes still fixed on my blood; I can see his hands slowly clenching into fists as he fights to control himself.

"You should go," I say softly, trying to snap him out of it.

He starts, then looks from the cut to my face, as if he only just realised I was still there. "Yh-Yeah," he says shakily. "You sure? That looks bad..."

"I've stitched myself back up before. Just go." _Before you kill me. Zacky wouldn't like that. _

Finally he nods, muttering, "I'll be right outside," before leaving the room.

Now I'm alone, I can allow myself a moan of pain. I don't like to show weakness to anyone, but this fucking hurts! I'm not squeamish about blood (how ridiculous would _that_ be?) but it still makes me feel a little sick seeing what should be on the inside... on the _out_side. A quick search of the cupboards yields a first-aid kit, including (thankfully) a needle and some thread. I'm sure they're not normally included in these kits, but I'm not complaining. I was just digging out some antiseptic and a wad of bandages, when I was suddenly aware of a presence behind me.

"Johnny? I told you to leave." I turn around, then freeze, my blood turning cold.

My eyes take in tattoos; lip piercings; dark eyes; sharp teeth bared in a grin.

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**Part five - done! :P **

**Again: reviews please! :)  
**

**Peace out ^_^**

**xoxox**


	6. Chapter 6

**Yay, first review! Thanks so much, I'm glad someone is enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it :)**

**I just remembered I haven't given a disclaimer for the last few chapters so, for legality's sake: I do not own Avenged Sevenfold, or any of its members, in person or name. For now... Hehe.  
**

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**Chapter 6**

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~Previously...~

_ "Johnny? I told you to leave." I turn around, but it's not Johnny. _

_ My eyes take in tattoos; a lip piercing; dark eyes; sharp teeth bared in a grin. _

~Now...~

"Hey, Cass."

My heartbeat quickens as I tense, fighting not to back away; what would be the point? He takes a step forwards, tilting his head slightly on one side, then says with a chuckle, "I'm not gonna eat you. D'you want me to take a look at that?"

"Get away from me." Maybe I trusted him not to kill me, maybe I didn't; I wasn't sure. Either way, I wasn't willing to take the chance.

"Come on, if I was going to kill you I would've done it already," Vengeance says. "And if you don't get that sorted out, you'll probably bleed to death," he adds with a smile.

I glance down at it again. The blood is pumping out in a steady pulse, meaning I've cut an artery, maybe a major one. He's right, much as I hate to admit it.

"Right, now we've got that sorted out, can I please have a look at that?" He's suddenly beside me, pushing a chair behind my legs just as they give way. I hadn't realised I was feeling faint, but as soon as I'm sitting down the room seems to start spinning around me.

He's done before I realise what he's doing; he raises his head from my arm as I jerk in shock, a dark red gleam of what looks suspiciously like blood (_my_ blood!) at the side of his mouth. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I almost yell, trying to stand up and get away from him, but the room tips and I fall back onto the chair.

"Saving your life," he replies, wiping his mouth and glancing down at my arm. I look in the same direction, staring at the area where I'd cut mys-

Where there was now only a reddish-purple scar. It looked about two weeks old, not two minutes.

"What the-"

"You're welcome."

I don't reply for a few seconds, then say one word only: "Why?"

"Why save your life?"

I nod.

"I don't want to kill you. If I let you die when I could save you, it would come to the same thing."

"But I did this to myself." I frown. Then another question hits me. "How were you able to do that?"

"The healing comes with the vampirism, honey." He frowns. "You should know that."

I shake me head impatiently. "No, I mean: How were you able to stop? You've got a hell of a lot more self-control than any other vamp I've met."

He inclines his head slightly. "I'll take that as a compliment. To answer your question: practice."

"That's how you were able to turn Johnny without killing him?"

"He told you the story then?" He answers my question with another question.

I nod again. "He said you saved his life."

He throws himself into another chair at the table and props his chin on his hands. "That's what he likes to call it. Personally, I disagree."

"But he's still walking around, still technically 'alive', so-"

"But what about his family, the ones he loved? He had to watch them die, while he lived in the shadows. Fifty years! He's lost everyone, and it's my fault he had to hang around to see it." He sounds genuinely remorseful, and I feel a strange urge to put a hand on his shoulder. I don't, though; that would be _too_ weird.

Instead, I say softly, "If _he_ thinks you saved him, isn't that enough? Isn't his gratitude worth it?"

He doesn't reply immediately; I count twenty seconds before at last he replies, "I guess. Sometimes I wonder whether..."

He stops and I raise my eyebrows, prompting, "Whether...?"

"Whether he's really better off like this," he finishes, meeting my gaze.

"He doesn't seem to mind."

"I know. None of them do." He runs a hand through his hair and exhales sharply.

"How did you... I mean, Johnny told me how you saved him. What about the others? Did you _save_ them, too?"

He looks at me with surprise. "Interested?"

"Know your enemy," I reply, only half joking.

He laughs shortly, then nods, almost to himself. "I guess it's only fair, seeing as..."

"Seeing as you kidnapped me and all, yeah," I finish, only a little irritably. There's no point in being angry about it now; arguing won't change the situation. Instead, I prompt, "So..."

"So. Yeah. Why not? Can't do any harm, I guess." He takes a deep breath, then begins. "Well, Matt's story's a simple one. Someone had stabbed him in a parking lot for his wallet. I was around at the right time to see it happen. You can do the math. Brian, he's a different story. For a few years I worked part-time in a prison. I met Brian a few times, started getting to like him. One day, I heard a rumour among the other inmates that someone was going to commit suicide. They didn't say who, but somehow I had a feeling it was him. I ran to his cell; usually I could tell he was in there by hearing his thoughts, but I couldn't hear anything. He'd torn up his bed-sheets and tied them round the light in the ceiling. Hanged himself."

He pauses before continuing.

"Before someone saw and started shouting, I got him down and checked everything. His neck was broken, but he still had a pulse. Don't ask me how, but somehow he'd managed to break the bones in his neck _without_ severing his spinal cord. The rest is history.

"Jimmy was a weird one though. The three of us (me, Matt and Brian) met him by accident in a bar and we made friends in, like, a second. About three weeks later, maybe four – I forget – he saw us...well, being us. Anyway, he _flipped _out-"

"As any sane person would," I put in, but he shakes his head.

"No, that's the point. It wasn't like that; he wasn't scared or freaked. He was _jealous_."

"...I'm sorry?" I frown.

"I know! All he talked about after that was how much he wanted to be like us. I kept telling him no, he didn't understand, it wasn't like he thought it was, but he didn't stop."

"So you changed him? What about his family, friends?"

"Didn't have any. His dad pushed off when he was three and his manic-depressive mom killed herself seven years later. All the other kids in his neighbourhood were scared of him, wouldn't go near him, so he spent years alone, fending for himself. His grandparents had left a bit of money, so he got by, but it wasn't much of a life."

I can only nod, struck dumb with pity. _What a life. No wonder he wanted this. _

"That's what I thought; why I finally agreed to turn him. The others were too inexperienced to do it, they would've killed him."

"And Johnny... appeared after that?"

"Yeah, about three years after Jimmy."

I nod slowly. Then, a question I've been pondering for some time comes to the fore of my mind. "How old _are_ you?"

"Twenty seven," he replies with a wry smile.

"How many years have you existed?" I rephrase my question, resisting the urge to smack the smart-ass look off his face.

"Not sure. I lost count after about two hundred," he says casually.

I raise my eyebrows, impressed despite myself. That's pretty old, even by vamp standards. Most get themselves killed before they hit one-fifty. "So that makes the others..."

"Matt's just turned 85, Brian's 83, Jimmy's 79 and Johnny's the youngster; he's only 74." Anyone else hearing this would've been _really_ confused, but I get what he means. 74 _is_ young for his kind.

"You hide it well," I comment with a laugh.

He laughs too and, for a moment, it's possible to forget that I'm sitting with a bloodthirsty killer.

"I've never killed a human, you know," he says with a slightly accusatory note in his voice.

"Right, so you've lived on what, blue steak?"

"Something like that. You know there are millions of unsolved livestock mutilations all over the country?"

"...You've been drinking cow blood?" I like a bit of rare steak myself, but that just sounds _gross. _

"Yep. At least, until someone had the bright idea of blood banks. Tastes better, and _definitely _better than killing people."

I'm entirely surprised (almost shocked) to hear him say this. All the other vampires I've met have, without exception, boasted of how many people they've killed, how much pain they've caused.

"Maybe this one is different?" he says, with a smile in his voice. I don't say anything, and he continues. "Just because it's been a while since I was human doesn't mean I've forgotten it."

I can't help asking. "What happened to you?"

"You mean, how did I become like this?"

I nod. "Who turned you?" _Anyone I know?_

"I don't know. All I remember is I was walking, it was dark, then something hit me from behind. Then nothing, until I woke up in the middle of nowhere, covered in blood, like this."

"That must've been hard."

"You have no idea." He runs a hand through his hair. "Have you ever been addicted to drugs, alcohol, the like?"

I shake my head.

"No, me neither, but I've heard what it feels like. I just wanted blood, all the time; I thought I was losing my mind. Then, when I finally realised what was going on, I tried to end it."

"To kill yourself?"

He nods solemnly. "Didn't work, of course. Apparently guns, cliffs, rope and poison aren't as effective as an axe or a good sharp knife to the heart. I don't think anyone's managed to survive drinking a _whole_ bottle of bleach before."

"Wow. You went that far?" My insides clenched automatically at the thought.

"Yup. It didn't taste very nice." He says it lightly, but I can see in his eyes how hard it is to dredge up these old memories.

The silence stretches out, reaching almost ten minutes before either of us speaks. Finally, I say tentatively, "Something Johnny said...He said you had a girl? What happened?"

He stands up abruptly. "I have to go," he says shortly, exiting the room without another word, leaving me alone.

_Okay. So he doesn't like to talk about that. _I shrug slightly, then look around. Food was still spread out over the counters and table; the light on the stove had switched off, telling me it was at the right temperature.

The pizza doesn't take long. I find some plain 12" bases in the freezer (along with a large box of hospital-style baggies of frozen blood – ugh) spread them with tomato sauce and grate some cheese, finishing them off with the chopped mushrooms, tomatoes and chicken. Not a bad haul for a vampire's kitchen. While they're cooking, I hum to myself, not noticing the door opening until someone behind me coughs quietly.

"Jesus! Don't _do_ that!" I almost drop the oven tray I'm holding, spinning round in surprise.

"Sorry!" Johnny holds up his hands. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"S'okay." I set the tray down on top of the stove, pointing at the cooked pizzas. "Hungry?"

He grins, and we set to work, polishing off both in less than ten minutes.

"Man, I've missed good pizza," Johnny says, making me laugh.

As I'm clearing the plates away, the door opens and Sullivan walks in. "Hey, Johnny." He ignores me, but I don't care.

"Hey, man. What's up?"

Johnny sits back and tries not to look guilty as Sullivan glances in amusement at the plates in my hands. "D'you get hungry?"

"Not me." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at me. "She wanted to cook, so..."

"Fair enough. Zacky wants to see you."

"What, now?" Johnny glances at me, then back to his friend. "How come?"

"Didn't say. I'd go now, if I were you. He sounds pretty pissed."

"Maybe it would be best if you went upstairs, Cass," Johnny says, apologetically.

For once, I don't argue; the last thing I need to get between two arguing vampires and, from the sound of it, Vengeance was not happy. _Because of me, or...?_ I asked Johnny silently.

He shakes his head very slightly, telling me to wait. Heading back upstairs to my room, I catch sight of Shadows and Gates watching TV; they look up at the same time and Gates smirks slightly.

The door closes behind me (I don't bother to lock it) and I sit on the bed to wait for the outcome of the argument. To my surprise, I find myself hoping Johnny doesn't get in too much trouble.

* * *

**Zacky's POV**

Johnny sits on the edge of the couch, looking nervously up at me. If I was the sadistic type (like Brian, say) I might find it amusing. Instead, it saddens me. I've sent Matt and Brian out of the room; they'll probably eavesdrop anyway, but there's no getting entirely round that. At least this way they aren't staring at him. Kid's freaked out enough as it is.

"What's this about, Zack?" he asks, his voice surprisingly steady. Judging from his stance, I would've said he was scared, but his tone said otherwise.

"She knows... things about me. What did you tell her?" I ask in response, watching him levelly. _If you've been spilling secrets, Johnny..._

"You heard. We were in the same room."

"So that's it? You haven't told her anything else?"

"I haven't, I swear." His tone and eyes tell me it's the truth. Besides, nothing happens in this house that I don't find out about sooner or later.

"Alright. I believe you." He visibly relaxes; it hits me how scared he really is of making me angry. I'm not sure whether to be flattered or grieved about that or not. "I'm still pissed at you, though. You're fraternising with the enemy." Now he looks nervous again, almost making me feel guilty. Softening my tone, I punch him lightly in the shoulder and say, "You're too damn nice, you know that, kid?"

Johnny grins, looking intensely relieved.

"Hey, guys. You can come back in now," I call; Matt comes back into the room alone. "Where's Brian?" I ask, frowning.

"Said he was going for a walk," Matt replies with a shrug.

I raise an eyebrow and concentrate for a moment. Then my eyes narrow. "He's upstairs," I say, already at the door. _If he touches her..._

* * *

**I seem to be in a habit of leaving things on cliffhangers :P**

**What is Brian doing? And why was he in prison? You'll have to wait and see! :)**

**Many thanks again to my (currently) solo reviewer :D Hope to see more comments from readers soon, yeah? Hehe.**

**xoxox  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry about the cliffy I left you guys on last time :P Let us continue...**

**Oh yeah, and I still don't own A7X. Dang...  
**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

* * *

I can feel the wall, hard against my back as I push myself back, trying to keep as far away from him as possible. "Stay the _fuck_ away from me," I snarl, feeling on the nightstand in case there's a candlestick or something I can use as a weapon.

No such luck; I grind my teeth in frustration.

He takes another step forwards, smirking; I curse my heart for its weak human reaction. Hearing my elevated heartbeat he grins, revealing inhumanly sharp, white teeth. His silver eyes are thrown into sharp relief in the light of the lamps. No doubt he's assuming that I'm afraid. I've only been in this situation - unarmed and at the complete mercy of a hostile vampire - twice before, and both times I barely escaped with my life, with the scars to show for it. If I had a weapon, it would be a simple matter to stake this monster to the wall (and probably remove his head, just to be sure). As it stands...

"Aww, don't be like that, babe..." He speaks softly, but somehow it's more menacing than if he'd spoken harshly.

"Fuck you."

He chuckles, then tilts his head on one side slightly before suddenly moving so fast my eyes can't follow him. I barely have time to open my mouth before he's on me, forcing me to the floor, teeth at my throat, one hand held over my mouth to stop me screaming, the other gripping my hair to hold me down.

_ This is it. This is how I die. _Oddly, I'm not scared. I don't try to fight (What good would it do?) and instead try to fix my thoughts on my family. If this is how I'm going out, I wanna go out thinking of them.

_ Simon... Mom, Dad... Luce, I'm sorry._

But the end, apparently, is not nigh.

Suddenly, he's gone, thrown away from me by some unseen force. I sit up, coughing, and put a hand to my throat. My fingers come away red.

A growl brings my attention back to the rest of the room, where it seems I've been missing most of the drama.

Vengeance is holding Gates against the wall with his forearm pressed against his throat, eyes blazing and teeth bared in a snarl. Neither of them moves; it's only when he shifts position slightly that I realise Johnny is standing in the doorway, looking shocked. Keeping my eyes on Gates and Vengeance, I realise they're having a mental argument, something Johnny can probably hear loud and clear. From the look on his face, he doesn't like what he's hearing one little bit.

Finally, they seem to snap out of it. Vengeance glances over at me, then says to Johnny without turning his head, "Go see if she's okay."

Johnny nods and, walking over, frowns with worry when he sees the blood running down my neck. "Did he bite you?" he asks quietly, crouching beside me.

My first instinct is to cringe away from the contact, but I hold myself still as he looks closely at the wound, then reaches into a pocket, pulling out a handful of bandages. "Yeah, I think so." _He didn't get far, though_, I add silently.

"Shouldn't have got this far in the first place," Johnny mutters, then glances over his shoulder.

Vengeance releases Gates, who stands for a second, looking at him, then flees the room without a backwards glance. "She alright?" he asks Johnny brusquely.

"Think so. You feeling okay?" They both turn to me; I nod slowly.

"Fine, I guess."

"Good." And with that, Vengeance leaves the room as quickly as he came.

For a few seconds Johnny and I sit in silence while he finishes bandaging me up. It takes me a few moments to work out what's weird about that.

"Johnny."

"What?"

"...Do you always carry bandages around with you?" I ask, amused despite myself.

He shrugs. "Only since you came. You're always hurting yourself, so..."

I open my mouth to protest, but he does have a point. If I'm not getting attacked, I'm cutting myself on things. It's only a matter of time before I fall down the stairs or something.

"Don't do that," he says seriously, but I can see he knows I'm joking.

"Wasn't planning on it." I grin, ignoring the slight twinge of pain it causes. "It's not like me to be clumsy, honest."

"Honey, no-one would believe it." He chuckles, patting me on the shoulder.

A few hours later, not sure what time (they don't have any clocks in this place) Johnny and I are still sitting on the bed, talking about nothing in particular. Neither of us wants to bring up the subject of what had happened earlier.

"Um..." I say suddenly. "Can I have a shower?"

He frowns for a second. "Course. You had to ask?"

"Well, I..." I look down, embarrassed.

He laughs. "You didn't want to draw attention, right?"

I shake my head exasperatedly. "Well, I'm not sure how long it's been, seeing as I don't know how long I've been here."

"Fair point. Yeah, sure. There's towels and shampoo and stuff in there."

"Would you mind...standing outside the room? Like, by the door?" I have a sudden unpleasant memory of Gates' silver eyes and sharp, white teeth.

He winces. "No problem," he says, getting up. "I'll get you some clean clothes too."

"Thanks." I smile as he leaves the room, closing the door in that quiet way of his.

It takes roughly thirty seconds before he comes back, carrying a bundle of clothes. He hands them to me and leaves again, saying, "I'll be right outside, kay?"

"Okay." Once he's left the room, I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I'm banking entirely on the assumption that Johnny's chivalry will prevent him from mentally eavesdropping while I'm in the shower.

When the water's been running for about ten minutes, I slip silently out of the bathroom and suddenly focus as hard as I can on panic, visualising myself falling in the shower; I let out a small shriek and thump the floor for good measure, before ducking out of sight behind the bed.

Right on cue, the door slams open and Johnny runs in, panic evident on his face. He dashes into the bathroom, just as I jump up and slam the door on him, jamming the handle with the chair from the dressing table.

In the few moments I've had alone in here without being chained up, I've been examining the locks and, using the skills an old friend taught me about lock-picking, carefully started taking them apart. It's taken time, but as I grasp the first lock, it comes apart in my hands. I reach for the next one, working as quickly as I can towards my escape.

The bathroom door crashes to the floor in a pile of splintered wood; a pair of arms suddenly grabs me, pinning my arms to my sides. I fight, managing to land one kick and eliciting a satisfying yelp of pain. His grip loosens slightly, but as I twist away he catches my arm and drags me over to the bed, pulling me onto it. Within seconds, I'm chained back up, and Johnny is standing by the bed, hurt and betrayal plain on his face.

"You promised," he says, so softly it's almost a whisper, before turning away and leaving me alone.

* * *

It's a couple of hours, maybe three, before anyone comes to see me.

The footsteps coming up the stairs don't sound like Johnny's; sure enough, when the door opens, it's Sullivan who enters, carrying a plate of sandwiches and a glass of water.

"What do you want?" I ask, a little disconcerted. I thought none of the others wanted anything to do with me.

"Food?" he asks in response, setting the glass on the nightstand and holding out the plate.

I rattle the chains and give him a withering look.

"Oh, yeah. Right." He sits on the edge of the bed (I scoot over to the other side as far as I can) and holds out a sandwich. When I pointedly ignore it, he sets it back down. "What? My hands are clean!"

"How come you're here? Where's Johnny?" I ask, not bothering to acknowledge what he'd said.

"He's downstairs. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about," he says, his tone and expression unsettlingly friendly.

"I'm not a fucking circus animal." The dully-spoken swearword is the only indication of my true feelings.

"No, I mean... Well, you _did_ stab Zacky. And you tried to escape. And you kicked Johnny somewhere no man should ever be abused." He sounds amused, counting my 'offences' off on his fingers with a smile on his face. "That's more trouble than we've had to deal with in the last year put together, at least."

I chuckle despite myself at how casually he talks about my stabbing people. It makes me wonder, albeit briefly, what my parents would say if they knew what I did for a living; if my little brother would be proud of me.

"Here." He seems to sense that I'm relenting a little and holds up the sandwich again. I hesitate, then take a bite, chewing slowly to avoid having to speak. It's ham and tomato, with a hint of pepper – really good. _Who_ _made these?_ I ask silently.

"Johnny. He's the best cook out of all of us."

Raising an eyebrow, I take another bite, this time studying him as I chew. I've only ever seen him at a distance or in pictures before, or at least I had up until the concert (however long ago that was).

His long-ish black hair falls really strangely around his face in the kind of haircut only the inventor could pull off successfully. His face is pale, but that's normal for his kind, and made to seem paler by his sleeveless button-up black shirt. And he's _really_ tall, one of the tallest people I've met. Gotta be at least 6'4".

"Six five," he says with a slightly self-conscious smile.

"My mistake."

He puts down the sandwich and gives me some water, then sets the empty glass back on the table. It doesn't take long for me to finish the rest of the sandwiches; when they're gone, he sets the plate on the nightstand and puts the glass on top of it, then looks at me steadily without speaking. I notice how his eyes are drawn to the white bandage on the side of my neck.

"I heard what Brian did," he says suddenly, without inflection.

"Who didn't?" I reply, glancing down self-consciously.

"Zacky was really pissed at him for hurting you."

"I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"Fair enough."

Neither of us speaks for a few minutes. Then, on a sudden impulse, I say, "So you _wanted_ to become a vampire? What's up with that?"

Sullivan chuckles. "Zacky told you my sob story then?"

"Yeah. Said you'd had a really rough time."

He nods. "Not the best years of my life, those."

"I'll bet." _At least I have a family. Even if they believe I'm dead, I know different. _

"I have a family." He doesn't sound accusing or upset. It's just a statement.

Somehow that makes it worse. "I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I didn't mean-"

"Nah, s'okay." He cuts me off with a wave of his hand and a good-natured smile. "Anyway, I'd better get back down there before Johnny has a fit or something. He doesn't trust anyone else with you, you know."

And he's gone, taking the crockery with him, before I can ask what he means.

* * *

**Ooooo... Hehe :P**

**Until next time! ^_^  
**

**xoxox  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Many thanks to the lovely people who have already reviewed my story, and to everyone else: I know you're there! I can see you!  
**

**Hehe... :P**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Several hours later, Johnny finally comes up to see me. I can tell his footsteps a mile off, having heard them so many times, but they seem slow, less energetic than usual. Something's wrong.

He comes in, looking a little taken aback to catch me staring at the door, evidently waiting for him. "You alright?" he asks, sitting in his usual place on the side of the bed (though, it must be said, a little closer to the edge than usual).

"Fine. You?"

"Fine."

And for the next ten minutes we sit in silence, something we both seem to be practised at. It's not an entirely comfortable silence, but I don't know what to say to improve his mood. He seems upset, or maybe angry, but I can't be sure whether he's angry with me or not.

"I'm not mad at you," he says in a dull tone, looking up from his hands and meeting my eyes.

"Oh. What's wrong, then?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," he says, too quickly. A sure sign that something _is_ wrong.

"Okay, if you don't wanna talk about it."

"No, I don't."

I'm taken aback by his sharp reply and stop talking, looking away and fixing my eyes instead on the dressing table.

"I'm sorry." He says it so quietly, I'm not sure he's spoken, but then he reaches out and tentatively touches my arm. "Hey. I didn't mean to sound mad."

"S'okay." I smile wryly. "Shame I can't read _your_ mind, huh?"

His expression freezes for a split second, then he chuckles lightly."That would be _too_ weird."

He covered well, but not quite well enough. _What's he hiding from me?_

"Did I hurt you?" he asks suddenly, breaking my train of thought.

"What?"

"When I..." He gestures at the cuffs. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine." _You worry _far_ too much. _

He laughs out loud at that, making me jump. It's the first time I've heard him laugh properly; not just a chuckle, but a genuine laugh. It's nice, in a strange sort of way.

"What's funny?"

We both turn sharply, my heartbeat quickening when I see who it is.

"Brian? What do you want?" Johnny demands, getting up so he's standing between me and the monster standing in the doorway.

"I want to talk to the girl."

"She has a name," Johnny said pointedly.

"Fine. I want to talk to _Cass_."

"So talk."

"Can I at least see her face?" Brian raises an eyebrow, which I'm able to see as Johnny moves reluctantly to the left, leaving me (in my opinion) entirely exposed.

"What the fuck do you want?" Fighting the urge to cringe away from him, I force myself to meet his eyes. No hint of silver; that's a good start.

He moves as if to take a step closer, but Johnny raises a hand warningly.

"Say it from there, Gates," I say bluntly.

"I'm not gonna tell you I didn't mean to hurt you, 'cause you wouldn't believe me anyway, but... I'm sorry. I promise I won't try and hurt you again."

For a moment, I'm too stunned to say anything. Then, my cynical side reasserts itself and I raise my eyebrows. "And I'm supposed to trust your word because...?"

"That's your call. I've said I'm sorry, and I am. I mean it." He looks at me and, for a moment, I almost think he looks _hopeful_. But that would be far too human; must be a trick of the light.

"He's telling the truth, Cass." Johnny turns slightly, looking quickly at me before fixing his eyes back on Gates.

"Right. Well, fine. Don't expect me to start trusting you or anything. But I believe you."

"Is that an accepted apology?" he pushes, a grin starting to appear on his face.

"You _really_ want to get off the hook with Zack, don't you?" Johnny says, but from his tone I can tell he's smirking, even though I can't see his face.

"That's part of it, yeah."

I relent a little, if only for the sake of making him leave. "Alright. Apology accepted, then."

"Sweet. Thanks." For a moment, Brian looks almost surprised. Then he shrugs and turns, leaving the room as silently as he'd come in.

"Wow." Johnny sits back down on the bed. "Zacky must've really freaked him out."

"Is he really that bad?"

"That much of a jerk? Sometimes. Not so much until you showed up." He looks at me and cocks one eyebrow.

"What? Are you saying it's _my_ fault?" I frown.

"No-one's _fault_. Just... Since we brought you here, there've been more problems than we anticipated."

"You're not just talking about Brian, are you?" I can hear something in his tone, something he wants to say, but can't. Or won't.

He exhales sharply, seeming to come to a decision, then looks at me. And I mean _right_ at me, right in the eyes. There's something stirring just beneath the dark brown surface that I can't quite identify. Before I can speak, or even blink, he leans forwards, tilting his head slightly.

His lips are soft, and not as cold as I'd expect. My first instinct is to pull away, to fight, but for some reason, I don't feel the need to. I'm not in any danger; on the contrary, I feel safer with Johnny than I've felt with anyone else.

Suddenly he pulls back, looking panicked. "Oh God, I'm sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean-" He stops mid sentence.

The door slams shut, and I'm left alone again.

_Oh...kay... What just happened?_

* * *

I've just started to fall asleep when I'm woken by the sudden and overwhelming sense than there's someone in the room. I sit bolt upright, then remember I'm chained up and growl softly in frustration.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"Johnny." I relax when the light comes on and I see him sit down on the other end of the bed. He looks _miserable_. "What's wrong?"

He doesn't reply immediately, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. Finally, he looks up and says quietly, "I'm sorry about earlier. I... I shouldn't have done that."

_That's it? I thought someone had _died... "It's okay. Honestly."

He frowns at me. "What, so... You're not scared I'm gonna do what Brian did? Or worse?"

_What could be worse? Wait, don't answer that. _Out loud, I say, "You are the only vamp on this earth I've ever even begun to trust. I know you'd never do anything like that to me."

"I nearly did," he says, almost sullenly, and I remember when I'd cut myself downstairs, and I'd had to make him leave before his killer-instincts took over.

Shaking my head, I say firmly, "But you didn't. There are plenty of bad things I've _nearly_ done, but didn't. Hundreds. Do you see me getting torn up over it?"

"Guess not," he replies, his tone a little less funereal. "Hey, you want out of those?"

"What?"

He pulls out a small key and unlocks the cuffs. "You're not going to try again, are you?"

"It wouldn't work twice." I'd already checked the windows; the locks had been replaced by better ones even I couldn't crack.

He nods. "That's true. And I don't know what Zacky'll do if you piss him off _again_."

"Touchy, isn't he?" I comment, raising my eyebrows.

"You have _no_ idea," he says with a laugh.

_I notice we're steering clear of the small matter of what happened earlier._

"That was a mistake," he says quickly.

For some reason, his words cause a small twinge of hurt. "Then why'd you do it?"

"I don't..." He stops. "Have I upset you?"

"Answer my question."

"I..." For a few seconds, he's speechless. Then, he turns his head slightly, as if listening to something downstairs. Checking no-one else is listening to _us_, I realise. Finally, he turns back to me, looking (if possible) paler than usual. It almost makes me want to laugh, how much like a frightened schoolboy he appears.

"Um..." He tries again. "Oh, this is gonna sound so stupid..."

"Say it," I prompt, fixing my eyes on his.

"There've been other girls, other humans, vamps too, but I've never felt...never felt _this_ about any of them. Not as much as you." He averts his eyes and I feel myself blush; damn me for being so human!

"So, what are you saying?" I frown slightly, wondering if this is going in the direction I think it's going.

"Um..."

_Come on! Are you that much of a wuss? _

"Hey!"

"Answer the question then." I grin at the uncomfortable look on his face.

"If the others found out..." he whispers, glancing at the door again.

"I'm not gonna tell." _Who'd believe me, anyway?_

He nods once, then leans forwards until our cheeks are almost touching. I can feel his breath on my neck as he whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him, "I think I...I love you."

"You..." I trail off, feeling my heartbeat increasing as my cheeks flush. He leans back, watching my changing expression.

"Is that... Are you...mad at me?" he asks, hesitantly.

"What? No. Um..." Now it's my turn to be hesitant. _How is this possible? And more importantly, what the hell do I do now? _

"You don't have to do anything. This is all my fault..." Johnny stands up and goes to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" I say quickly, frowning at him.

"I should go back down, before they get suspicious."

I can see the logic in that, but then something else makes me frown. "But won't they know if you're thinking about...?" I don't finish the sentence.

"I can hide it from them. They'll be able to hear it from you, though..." He trails off, evidently thinking hard. "Is there anything you can focus really hard on, and I mean _really _hard. Like, if someone comes up, could you think about that instead? It'll make them suspicious, but there's nothing else they can do."

"I guess." I think for a moment, then the obvious hits me. _My family. _

"Perfect." He smiles. "They won't be suspicious of that; they'll think you just miss your family."

I smile back. "Sorted. Now get your ass back down there before they come up."

"I'll see you later." He leans forwards, hesitates, then says with a grin, "By the way, you never did get that shower." Before I can react, he kisses me briefly on the cheek, then leaves in a dark blur.

After a few seconds, I unfreeze. Putting my face in my hands, I groan loudly.

_ What have you done?_

But, despite my inward-berating, the fact remains that I haven't had a shower in over a week at least (I'm still not sure how long I've been here). So, grabbing the handful of clothes that had been left on the dresser since my escape attempt, I head into the bathroom.

When I've finished, I dress and sit on the bed, drying my hair on a spare towel. _Ah, it's good to be clean!_

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. _Guess who_.

"Cass?"

"Come on in."

The door opens; Johnny walks in, carrying a tray with a plate, four beer bottles and some cutlery in one hand, and a laptop case in the other.

"We can't eat downstairs because Matt's having dinner with a girl," he explains when I look at him quizzically.

"A human girl?"

He nods. "I don't think he's got anything sinister planned, don't worry. He just wants to get laid."

"Did _not_ need to hear that, thanks." I grin and pat the bed.

He smiles, setting the tray down on the bed and opening the case. "D'you wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure. What've you got?"

"I'll let you pick," he says, firing it up and opening iTunes, then passing it to me. I scroll slowly down the extensive list of films, chuckling. Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, Titanic...

"What's funny?" he asks as he settles himself on the bed, leaning against the wall.

I glance up. "I just didn't expect to find romances, that's all."

"Well _Saw_'s there too," he says, pointing to it on the screen.

"Alright." I select a film and highlight it, then lean back, passing the computer back to him while I grab my food and a drink, then pause and pass the bottle to him. "Yours, I think."

"Ah." He holds it up to the light. "Yeah. Sorry."

"That's okay." I grab another one, this time taking the time to make sure I can see light through it.

"_V for Vendetta_... Good choice," he says, then reaches up and hits the lights, starting the movie.

Without me realising it, his arm slowly moves round until it's resting just above my shoulders, not quite touching me. When I do notice, instead of moving away as I normally would, I find myself (to my surprise as well as his) leaning my head against his warm shoulder. This seems to encourage him and he moves his arm down so it's touching my shoulders, his hand resting by my arm. We sit watching the movie in silence and without moving, aside from me setting aside my empty plate and reaching for the other bottles, setting them on the nightstand so they're more easily accessible.

The movie finishes around one am. I yawn and glance up to see that Johnny's already fallen asleep, his head turned to the side and his arm limp around my shoulders. I close the laptop and push it to the end of the bed with my foot, then (the alternative being waking him up) I lean back against him and close my eyes. I'm more exhausted than I'd thought, and his shoulder makes a comfortable pillow. It doesn't take long for me to drift off; just long enough for a small part of my mind to note how strange it is that I'm falling asleep next to a vampire.

..._A vampire who's just told me he loves me. _

* * *

**Well, you know the drill :P Reviews please, let me know what you think! **

**xoxox**_  
_


	9. Chapter 9

**So sorry for the delays, I'm in exam week at the moment and this is the only time I've had for anything other than revision -_- but anyway, here's the next bit!**

**Haven't been very consistent with the disclaimers, but whatever: I still do not own Avenged Sevenfold. **

* * *

**Chapter 9**

* * *

For the next seven days, life goes on as before: I cook my own meals most of the time, Johnny and I spend as much time as possible together without arousing suspicion and the boys sit around in the evenings playing video games and poker, or jamming in preparation for their next show. On the eighth day, they decide to go out. This means that, as they can't leave me alone in the house, Johnny and I are left alone in the house for the first time.

"You sure you don't mind?" Zacky asks, turning in the doorway. I'd heard them laughing about it downstairs when they thought I wasn't listening, talking about how Johnny got stuck 'babysitting', and had to suppress a smile.

"Nah, it's fine." Johnny glances back at me briefly, then says, "Someone's gotta keep her out of trouble."

"Alright. Well, don't wait up, bro."

And they're gone.

Johnny shuts the door and, the moment he's sure they've left the premises, flings his arms around my neck. I laugh, pushing him away playfully. Grabbing my hand, he drags me into the next room where we collapse onto the couch and just sit for a few moments, still laughing. I glance up to see that Johnny's looking at me, frowning slightly.

"What?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing." He grins, then puts his arm around my shoulders, hugging me close. "It's just…"

"…Nice not to have to hide?" I finish with a smile.

"Mmm." He looks at me with a mixture of happiness and a strange sort of…_desperation?_ I'm not sure if that's exactly right, but it's as close as I can get. I open my mouth to ask him what he's thinking, but my words are interrupted as he touches a finger softly to my lips.

The next few hours pass in a blur, neither of us leaving the couch. Eventually, after about four hours of this, Johnny sits up, looking thoughtful.

"What?" I ask with a frown.

He doesn't speak, but strokes his hand slowly down the side of my face in reply. He stops at the side of my neck, then runs it round the back of my neck, lifting my head so that our lips meet again. This kiss is short; I'm just beginning to enjoy myself when he pulls away and gets up in one smooth movement, grasping my hand and pulling me to my feet.

"What, Johnny?" I ask again, exasperated now. He just smiles, then leads me out of the room. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, he doesn't wait for me to start climbing; instead, he swiftly sweeps an arm under my legs, the other holding me round the waist, and carries me up, continuing the kiss as we go. The top of the stairs (and, unfortunately, the end of the kiss) comes far too soon, but when I see which room we're in, my disappointment vanishes.

It has to be Johnny's room. The walls are painted in plain cream, the windows draped in heavy dark-grey velvet to block out any unwanted sunlight. Vampires aren't affected by UV the way the movies portray them to be (they don't spontaneously combust or melt) but it _is_ uncomfortable for them. A pair of matching bass-guitars, one black and one white, stand on a rack against the wall by the window. There's nothing in the way of decoration, no art or even posters, but as he shuts the door I see what must be hundreds of little coloured pieces of paper pinned haphazardly to the back. On closer inspection, they turn out to be concert tickets.

_I'm almost jealous..._

He chuckles, drawing my attention back to the centre of the room, and I realize I've completely missed the whole point of coming up here in the first place.

The bed completes the monochromatic colour scheme with black covers and pillows, silky like the ones in my room, and white sheets. The head of the bed is an ornately-wrought black iron semicircle. Oh, and the bed is _huge_; surely nobody needs _that _much space?

He laughs, sitting on the edge of the bed and beckoning me over. When I'm within reach, he grabs me round the middle; I shriek as he flings me into the middle of the bed. Laughing, I poke him in the ribs, making him yelp, and then suddenly I'm on my back, and he's on his hands and knees, looking down at me.

For the first time, Johnny doesn't initiate it. Instead, surprising myself, I reach up, grabbing his collar and pulling him down to meet me. Before I realise what I'm doing, I've unbuttoned his shirt: he leans back, slipping his arms out of the sleeves and throwing it across the room. His chest is flawless, pale but slightly tanned, just like his arms, with muscles lightly defined beneath the smooth skin. For a few seconds, we stay frozen like that, just looking at each other, then my hands creep to my collar and start to pull my shirt over my head. Getting the idea, he agrees enthusiastically and soon I'm down to my underwear, exactly the same as the first time we met.

_Under slightly different circumstances,_ I remind him, making him smile in response. My hands find his belt, unbuckling it, and soon his jeans have met the same fate as his shirt and my clothes.

We're hesitant at first, me because of my instincts screaming at me to stop, and he because (I think) he doesn't want to hurt me; he's about three times stronger than me after all, even with all my training. Before long, however, we've found our rhythm and the next couple of hours pass by like immensely enjoyable blurs.

* * *

"Well," Johnny says softly, buckling his belt back up. "That was..."

"Interesting," I finish, fastening my bra back together.

"Amazing, I was gonna say." His grin turns to a smirk as I blush. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks, sounding slightly worried.

"No, I'm fine. More than fine," I reply with a smile, casting an eye over the room for my missing shirt. "Hey, have you seen-"

He holds it up, still smirking. "But I prefer you like that," he says, pouting.

I laugh, then hold out a hand. "Come on."

He shakes his head, grinning childishly.

"Hand it over!" I dive at him, wrestling for the shirt. My fingers graze his side and he convulses, laughing.

_Hang on..._ I attack him again, this time aiming not for his hands, but for his ribs. It works; all he can do is curl into a ball and beg me to stop, tears of laughter running down his face.

"You're ticklish?" I say incredulously, not ceasing my attack.

"P-Please! Just...stop!" He lets go of the shirt, rolling off the bed to land on the floor with a thud. "Ow..."

I can't help it; the look of pained indignation on his face is _hilarious_. Still somewhat drunk from our previous exertions, I collapse in a heap on the bed, laughing until my eyes water.

We get dressed and slowly make our way back downstairs with the intention of making me something to eat. The cupboards and fridge cough up a jar of chilli sauce and some diced chicken, among other things; soon I've got the makings of a great stir-fry.

Suddenly, Johnny freezes, closing his eyes and concentrating hard. "They're back," he says softly, stepping away from me and sitting at the table. I put one of the plates back in the cupboard and dish up for one, sitting down to eat. We both hear the door open, then muffled voices getting steadily louder and louder.

"So d'you think you're in?" The first voice (sounds like Brian) says.

"I don't know, man. It's only been one date." Gotta be Matt.

"Aww, I always knew you had it in ya." Brian chuckles mockingly.

"Hey, fuck you, dude. You're just jealous 'cause none of the girls you get with actually _like_ you. They just think you're hot 'cause you got long hair and play guitar."

"At least I get some."

"Just because I like a girl with a little _substance_-"

"So do I."

"Different kind of substance, bro." Another voice cuts in with a chuckle; sounds like Jimmy.

"Leave it alone, Brian," Zacky says good-naturedly, his tone a mixture of exasperated and amused.

"Whatever."

From the twanging sounds coming from the living room, somebody's picked up a guitar. The kitchen door is only ajar; it's pushed open to admit Zacky and Jimmy.

"Hey, guys," Johnny greets them.

"Hey, Johnny. What's goin' on?" Zack replies, peering interestedly into the pan on the stove. "Cass, have you been cooking again?"

I swallow my mouthful of chicken, then reply. "Yeah."

He raises an eyebrow. "Smells good. Maybe you should give Johnny a few pointers?"

I chuckle, but don't reply.

"What're you grinning about?" Jimmy asks, elbowing Johnny.

"Nothin'. Just how I'm gonna beat your ass on Halo," Johnny says without hesitation.

Jimmy scoffs. "Oh, it is _on_!"

"And so it begins," Zacky mutters, making me laugh as I clear away my empty plate.

We go into the living room, sitting at the table where Brian's already sitting with Matt, strumming some chords. He glances up as I sit down; close proximity to him still makes me a little nervous, but having Zacky on my other side makes me feel safe.

The next few minutes pass in comfortable silence, broken only by Brian's quiet guitar playing and sporadic curses from the other end of the room.

"You're gonna die, short-stuff!"

"Fuck you, Sullivan!"

"Oh, yeah? Well how about-"

"Dammit!"

"Haha! Wait... No!"

"You're outta practice!"

"I hate you."

Johnny laughs. "Love ya too, bro."

Zack looks at me resignedly. "Kids."

I laugh, amusing myself by watching the expression on Jimmy's face become steadily more indignant, while Johnny's grin gets wider.

A minute or so later, a question I'd been meaning to ask for some time sprang to the fore of my mind. I was a little apprehensive of approaching Brian directly after my encounter upstairs, but I felt safe enough in a room with at least two vampires I knew would protect me.

"Brian?"

He looks up without stopping his playing. "Yeah?"

"I was wondering, if it's not too personal... Why were you in prison?"

Raising an eyebrow, he glances at Zacky. "You've been talking about me," he says with a slight smile. "Alright, you asked for it... I killed a man. Several, actually."

I'd been expecting something like that, but it was still disconcerting to hear it spoken aloud. "Oh, right? Any reason why?"

"Not really. See, what Zacky failed to mention was that the 'prison' he worked in was actually an asylum for the criminally insane." Brian grins wolfishly.

"I see. But you're _not_ insane, obviously." _I hope._

"Not anymore. I think it was the Change that fixed whatever was wrong inside my head. But before that...oh boy. I'm grateful that they locked me up."

"And I broke you out," Zacky said with a smile.

"Grateful for that too, bro." Brian stopped playing and extended a fist; the two vamps knocked knuckles. My curiosity sated (and then some) I turned around to look over at the gamers on the other side of the room. It appeared that the tables had turned. Now Johnny was wincing, while Jimmy's chuckling grew louder.

Brian continues playing, plucking out atonal - but somehow still pleasant – melodies as fluently as though they were from memory, though it's clear he's improvising.

"D'you play?" he asks suddenly, taking me by surprise.

"Uh, a little. Why?"

He holds out the guitar. "Give 'er a whirl."

I hesitate, then take the guitar carefully, very aware of how valuable it must be, and how pissed he'd be if I dropped it. I slide the pick out from under the strings, think for a few seconds, then pluck out a few notes, frowning in concentration. I haven't played a guitar in years, but (if I do say so myself) I used to be pretty good.

"Not bad," Brian comments with a smile, watching my fingers. "Was that Boston?"

"Yeah." I stop playing, embarrassed.

"Nah, go on. That was good!" Zacky says encouragingly.

"You know chords, right?" Brian asks, picking up another guitar from a stand behind Matt.

"The basic ones, yeah."

"Hit A minor, C, F and E."

I do as he asks, strumming them once. "Like that?"

"Yeah! Now strum them a bit, give it some rhythm."

"...Okay." I give it a go; it doesn't sound that good to me, but as I play them again he grins and starts playing along, picking out harmonies to the chords I'm playing. It sounds great, and I can't help but be impressed. He's _good_.

"Nice. You should keep that one, Bri," Zack comments, watching Brian's hands as he repeats a fiddly motif then stops.

"Yeah, maybe." He smiles at me and, for once, I can't help but smile back. It's strange, but I almost feel that, had we met in other circumstances, we might've been friends.

"Aww, thanks, babe," he chuckles.

_Damn, forgot about the mind-reading thing._

"No worries. I won't tell." He winks.

The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, with Jimmy getting his ass kicked by Johnny on the Playstation, and Brian alternately showing and teaching me stuff on the guitar while Zack and Matt watch with amusement. In all my (for lack of a better word) 'adventures', I'd forgotten how much I loved music.

* * *

**Well, there you have it! So Cass's relationship with our favourite vampire has progressed a bit, and now you know why Brian was locked up :D**

**Everything seems to be going smoothly...for now. MWAHAHAHAHA *cough*  
**

**Oh, and if anyone's interested, this is set before they started writing the album 'Nightmare', and the chords Cass plays are the verse chords for 'Buried Alive':P**

**Update soon, I promise!**

**^_^ xoxox**


	10. Chapter 10

**And here's part 10! **

**Some comments on the last few updates would be much appreciated guys :) **

**(You know you want to! :P)**

**Disclaimer: do not own A7X, yada yada yada...**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

* * *

At about four in the morning, I suddenly realise I'm tired. "I'm going to bed. 'Night."

"'Night, Cass," the boys chorus. I head upstairs, closing the door quietly behind me.

I don't really want to sleep in the same clothes I've worn all day. Looking around the room, my eyes rest on the dark-wood wardrobe; I pull the door open, then stop, staring at what's inside.

_Where'd he get those? _

_Johnny!_ I call silently, then listen hard.

Sure enough, a few seconds later I can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. The door opens and he comes in, looking concerned. "What's wrong?"

I point wordlessly to the wardrobe; he walks over and looks inside, then exhales sharply.

"Ah. Yeah."

"How'd you get all this?" I ask flatly.

"Uh..."

"You took it from my apartment, didn't you."

"...Yeah." He looks shifty.

"You- You can't just break into people's homes and steal their stuff!" I know it's irrational to get angry about something as trivial as my PJs being stolen from my apartment, but I'm too pissed to care.

"I thought," he says, his tone growing heated, "that you'd feel less like a _prisoner_ if you had some of your things from home, that's all."

..._Oh. _I open my mouth, then close it again, feeling a little sheepish. _  
_

He seems upset, and deliberately doesn't look at me as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I didn't realise..."

"It's okay. I should've asked." He looks up, his eyes hopeful. "Forgive me?"

"'Course." I on the bed next to him and lean my head on his shoulder. "So can I wear some of my own clothes now?"

He laughs. "Go ahead."

"Sweet!" I reach into the wardrobe, pulling out a handful of clothes and chucking it on the bed. "Hmmm..." Digging through the pile, I manage to find my Nightmare Before Christmas pyjama bottoms and my favourite too-big Bullet For My Valentine shirt. He chuckles as I pull them on. "What?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"Nothing. They suit you." His attempt at a straight face fails completely.

I open my mouth to retort but my witty comeback is replaced by a sharp "Holy mother of-!" as a large black spider crawls out from the pile of clothes and scuttles towards me. I leap to my feet, throwing myself away from the creature. It's amazing how I can face vampires, real cold-blooded killers, with no qualms, yet I'm terrified of spiders. It just doesn't make sense.

I'm brought back to reality by the sound of Johnny's laugh. Looking back at the bed, I see him shaking his head, then, fast as lightning, bring his hand down on top of the spider, picking it up in his fist.

"Oh, that's just _wrong_."

He suddenly looks thoughtful. "I could use this..."

"Don't even think about it."

He laughs again at my reaction. "I didn't mean _you_. I meant, when they ask why I came upstairs, I can tell them you wanted me to get rid of the spider in your room."

I raise my eyebrows. "Smart."

"Mmm hmm." He glances down at the hand holding the spider, then stops and looks thoughtful again. "They're getting curious. I'd better get back down."

"Okay." I keep my distance from the hand holding the spider as I walk back across the room and hug him quickly, kissing him on the cheek. "Now go!"

"Okay, okay." He waves his free hand as the door closes, and I hear his footsteps receding down the stairs.

* * *

Within a week, it's announced that we're all to be sent to our rooms again by Matt's quest for happiness with his new girlfriend. I heard them talking about it and, to my surprise, Matt sounds serious. He _really_ likes this girl. That means that tonight should have been mine and Johnny's movie night.

Then, Matt's plans changed. Instead of just having the girl over, the boys decided to invite a load of their friends over for music and booze. This doesn't bother me; I can just sit and watch some movies on my own until they've gone.

"You know how to work it, right?" Johnny asks, handing me the laptop.

_That doesn't even deserve an answer_, I reply non-verbally.

He laughs. "Alright."

"You don't entertain very often, do you?" I smile. _He's nervous...bless him._

Looking mildly affronted, he seems to be trying to think of a comeback, but changes his mind. "No," he admits, with an embarrassed smile.

"It'll be fine. Just get down there, have some fun, get rid of them and come back up, yeah?"

"That simple." He grins unconvincingly.

Opening the laptop, I glance up and give him a mental shove towards the door. "Go on!"

"Fine..." he grumbles, but goes, giving me a quick wink before the door shuts. The lock clicks; I'm not entirely surprised. The only difference between now and the last time they locked that door is that last time, it was to keep me in. Now it's to keep others out.

* * *

The movie's almost over when, to my dismay, the screen goes blank and a box appears in the middle.

_Low battery. Great._

Looking up, I cast my eye over the room in search of the power cable. _Nope, not here. He must've left it in his room. _

It shouldn't be a problem; everyone's downstairs enjoying the party anyway, so who's gonna know? Getting up, I go over to the dressing table and grab one of the safety pins I found in a drawer a few days ago. By twisting it a little, and bending the clasp so that it's at a strange angle, I've transformed the pin into a serviceable lock-pick.

The door swings open and immediately the music seems louder. This I'm grateful for, as it masks my hesitant footsteps across the landing to Johnny's room. I pause at the door, listening (just in case).

Nothing.

No; wait. There _is_ someone in there. A female someone. Giggling.

Then, I hear another voice which makes my blood run cold.

"No, Nikki! I told you-!" Johnny sounds exasperated.

"But you _want_ it, Johnny. You _know_ you do."

"I said, no!"

"That's not the message I'm getting, honey."

There's a soft _thump_, then another giggle, followed by silence.

I can't take it anymore; the door isn't closed properly, so I don't have to turn the handle to push it open enough to poke my head round the door. The sight that greets me is one I never expected or wanted to see.

Johnny's sitting on his bed, his back against the wall, with a girl – a naked girl! – kneeling on the covers in front of him. His shirt is unbuttoned and she'd fiddling with the zip on his jeans. She doesn't notice I'm here, but suddenly Johnny spots me over her shoulder. His eyes widen in shock and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but it's too late. I'm outta there.

Seconds later, I'm back in my room, sitting on the bed facing the barred window.

_How could he _do_ this to me?_

_ He told me he_ loved _me. He's risked everything for me, and now this? I can't believe it. _

_Well, believe it, honey, because it's the truth. He used you, and you fell for it, _the inner voice sneers, mocking me as tears start to run down my cheeks.

I lie down on my side, still facing the window, and let the tears soak my pillow, willing myself to fall asleep. But the welcome darkness won't come. Instead, my mind just replays the scene I just witnessed, over and over, like a broken record, with the same sentence echoing in my head like a voiceover on a bad movie.

_He used you... He used you..._

_ He used you. _

* * *

**Bad Johnny! :P **

**My exams are almost over, so updates should be more regular from now on. **

**Oh, and reviews would be _awesome_.** **HINT HINT :)**

* * *

**P.S. I just realised that in this story, Matt has a human girlfriend, and I mentioned Val in a previous chapter, so that situation got a little messed up in the writing. Please don't kill me! I'm gonna chalk it up to ****vampires having weird ideas about relationships ****:P**_  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**Yay, another review! Thank you so much**** for your support so far guys, ****it means the world! :)**

**Left the last chapter on a nasty clifhanger, hope this makes up for it ;P**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

* * *

I've been in my room, lying on the bed and staring at the window without moving, since last night. Nobody comes to see me until roughly midday, when (judging from the sounds coming from downstairs) the boys are going out again. The door shuts; right on cue, I hear Johnny's footsteps coming up the stairs.

_Leave me alone_. I don't even bother to say it out loud, but I know he can hear me.

"Cass. I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"What? Didn't mean to? Shitty excuse, Johnny. Think of something better."

I feel the mattress depress as he sits down, but I don't look up. "It was a _mistake_."

"Like we were? Because you said that was a mistake too, remember? Cut the shit and tell me the truth." I can almost feel the remorse emanating from him, but I don't relent. He's hurt me, and I want to hurt him back. _Was the sex worth it, Johnny? Or was that another _mistake_?_

"I've made a lot of mistakes, some I regret, but...I don't regret that. Never."

His tone catches my attention and, despite my anger, I find myself turning onto my back and looking up at him. To my horror, my eyes start to fill up again; I brush the tears away angrily, but he catches my wrist and raises my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of my hand.

"Please, Cass... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He looks like he's on the verge of tears himself, his eyes wide and so full of guilt I almost want to forgive him on the spot. But I'm not quick to forgive when someone's hurt me. I've been hurt enough times; learned my lesson the hard way.

"I believe that you're sorry, Johnny. But... I don't know if I can trust you anymore."

My words are hurting him, I can see it in his eyes, but for some reason, the expected satisfaction of inflicting pain doesn't come. Instead, I just feel empty, like there's something important missing.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, closes it again and blinks once, then opens it again. "I know I've hurt you, and I wish to _God_ there was anything I could do to fix that."

"So do I," I say quietly.

"What _can_ I do? What can I say that will show you how much I regret it? Please, Cass, tell me what I can do to fix it, and I'll do it!" He sounds desperate now, his hands clasped in front of him. In other circumstances it would have been funny to see him begging like that, but...

"I don't know, Johnny." I say it flatly, without inflection.

He looks away for a second, running a hand through his hair, then says quietly, "Well, I don't suppose it matters now, anyway."

"What d'you mean?" I frown confusedly.

He gets up and moves to the wardrobe in a blur. Opening the doors, he reaches into the back and feels around inside, then pulls out a very familiar object.

"Johnny, what are you doing with that?" I ask warily, eyeing the slim, sharpened length of wood.

He holds it out to me, handle first. I don't take it, instead looking at him in confusion.

Then, suddenly it clicks. _Wait..._ "You want me to..._stake_ you? No!" No matter how angry he made me, nothing could justify _that_. "Why are you doing this?" I ask, frowning.

"It'll give you time to escape."

"...What?"

"I'm letting you go."

"But Zacky'll kill you!" My concern for Johnny's wellbeing momentarily overrides my fury at his behaviour.

"He doesn't need to know I did it on purpose," Johnny replies, his tone frighteningly calm.

"But...I can't..." Not a friend; not _Johnny. _

_Never.  
_

"Then you'll never get out." His tone is casual, like he's offering me a glass of water instead of inviting me to stab him. "And you know it won't kill me," he adds.

That, at least, is true. Those stakes (wooden, not silver) are designed to hold the vamp down while you finish it off. Wood to the heart doesn't kill them, like in the legends; it just paralyses them until someone pulls it out.

Long enough.

"But you're still…"

"…Asking you to stab me. I know; I don't like it any more than you do. But it's the best plan you've got."

* * *

Finally everything's set. All the things I'll need and anything that might incriminate Johnny in my escape (plus some provisions stolen from the kitchen) are packed in a rucksack; the back door and gate are sufficiently damaged to explain my escape...

...And Johnny's sitting calmly on the bed, flipping the sharpened length of wood over and over in his hand.

"It's time," he says quietly, once I'm completely ready to go. I pull my jacket on slowly, stalling for time.

_I don't want to do this!_

"I know, babe. I don't really want you to either, but it's the only way. You can't live here forever, and I can't come with you." He flips the stake one last time, catching it by the sharp end and holding out the handle.

"...Alright." I take the stake from him, then hesitate. "D'you want to do it here, or downstairs? Then it'll look like you caught me trying to get out."

"Yeah, good thought."

Too soon, we're in the kitchen, by the splintered back door. He lies down on his back on the floor, now looking slightly worried. I kneel beside him, holding the stake in both hands. They shake slightly, but I steel my nerves and the shaking stops.

On impulse, I lean down quickly; our lips meet – for the last time? – and I feel him smile. When I lean back again, he whispers, "Make it quick," then closes his eyes.

I do my best, quickly pushing it in right over his heart, but his cry of pain cuts through me like a blade of ice.

"I'm sorry, Johnny! I'm so sorry!" I cry, fighting to hold back tears as he opens his eyes a crack and looks up at me. In that moment, I forgive him for hurting me.

"G-Go!" he grates out, his voice almost inaudible. "Th-they'll be b-back soon…"

I nod once, then stand, unable to look back at Johnny, lying impaled in the middle of the kitchen floor, blood spreading slowly over the front of his shirt. When I reach the door, I glance back for less than a second; enough time to see his lips form my name before his eyes slide shut.

* * *

"Johnny!" I call when we reach the door. _I can't hear him. Or her…_

"Hey, short-stack!" Jimmy shouts a nickname that's guaranteed to get a reaction.

Nothing.

"Something's wrong," I mutter, shoving the door open and running inside, followed by the others. "_Johnny_?"

"In here, Zack!" Matt yells from the kitchen; within seconds I've joined him on the tiled floor.

"Oh, _shit_…"

Johnny's lying on his back, his eyes closed, his shirt bloody and a sharpened piece of wood – is that a _stake_? – stabbed into his chest.

"Matt, Brian. Find her." I give the order without looking up.

Matt nods once and they run out the back door, vaulting over the fence.

"Don't hurt her!" I add loudly, but they've already gone. Rolling my eyes, I reach down, grasp the stake firmly in both hands and yank it out.

After about five minutes of alternate yelling and face-slapping, Johnny opens his eyes and slowly sits up, looking confused. "What the…" he starts to say, then stops and puts a hand to his chest. "Ah, fuck!"

"What happened, Johnny?" I ask, trying to keep my tone reasonable gentle, considering the circumstances.

"What d'you think happened? She fuckin' _staked_ me, man!" he exclaims, still holding a hand to his chest. I wince in sympathy; I've met my share of hunters before now, and I know it from experience. Stakes _hurt_.

"How'd she get it?" Jimmy asks, eyeing the weapon interestedly. I toss it to him and nod.

"Yeah, that's a good question."

"I don't know. One second she was just standin' there," he points to where Jimmy's leaning on the stove, "next, zip."

"Shit..." _She's good._

"Yep."

I consider what he's said for a few seconds. Her escape could prove to be a problem, if she comes back and has another crack at us, but somehow I don't think she will. I think iving with us, learning about our way of life, has changed her mind about wanting to kill me and my family. Putting a hand on Johnny's shoulder, I offer him my other hand and help him to his feet. "I'm glad you're okay, bro," I tell him honestly.

He smiles briefly. "Me too," he says quietly, before leaving the room; his footsteps echo up the stairs and fade to silence.

* * *

**Don't panic, it's not over yet! :P **

**As always, reviews are very much appreciated :) **

**Will update soon, I promise! **

**:D  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Woop, review! Thank you thank you thank you :D **

**Forgot disclaimer again XD **

**...I still don't own Avenged Sevenfold, or any lyrics or chords used in this story -_-  
**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

* * *

_**~2 months later~**_

I know I'm cutting it close, but this is a chance I can't miss.

I have to see him.

For all I know, they might've found out he helped me escape and... what? Killed him? Most of me believes that's unlikely. But I have to know for sure that he's alright.

The crowd screams, rushing forwards as a timer on the screen behind the stage counts down from ten.

3...2...1.

As the spotlights come on, I quickly scan the stage. There he is; standing just outside the pool of light, bass guitar in hand. He turns, and I'm able to see his face.

_He's alright. _The sense of relief I feel at this seemingly trivial discovery is huge.

Now, unlike the first time I saw this band live, I can actually afford to enjoy myself. I've always liked this kind of music over any other style, and these guys really are good at what they do. When the crowd surges forwards again, I push forward with it, careful to stay a certain distance from the stage. Just in case.

I keep my eyes on Johnny, smiling as I see him grin at Zacky, his fingers flying across the fretboard of his guitar. Then, suddenly, the unthinkable happens.

Our eyes meet.

His expression freezes, but then he looks away quickly, keeping it together enough to finish the song without mishap. When the song ends I can feel his eyes searching for me in the crowd, but I don't look round. I'm getting outta here; that was _not_ supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to know I was there.

* * *

The twenty minute drive back to my apartment goes by like a blur. It's a good thing the roads are clear tonight; there could be an accident, as distracted as I am. I shove my door open and lock it, walking into the kitchen, where something white suddenly darts out from under the table and jumps at me.

"Argh! Jesus, Marco!" I grab the cat and hold him up at eye level. "We've talked about this..."

He licks my nose, pleased that I'm home. I'm not technically allowed a 'pet' in my apartment but, when I got back after my sojourn at Zacky's place, I found that he and an identical white female cat had moved in. I'm still not sure how they got in, but there they were, and they weren't leaving. So, resigning myself to feeding three mouths instead of one, I adopted Marco and his twin sister Polo. I named them on a whim, but mostly I just call them 'You', as in "You, get down from there!" or "You, come here!". Mostly they keep to themselves, except when they want food.

"Oh, for crying out loud," I mutter, plonking him on the counter and reaching into the fridge. "Where's your sister?"

He leaps down onto the floor and starts winding round my legs. I'm convinced he can understand every word I'm saying, but just chooses to ignore me when it suits him. He knows perfectly well what I keep in the fridge, though.

When I've found Polo, and fed the cats and myself, I head into the bathroom for a quick shower.

"_When I see Maryann walk away_..." I hum without thinking, then stop and frown. _Was I just...singing? I _never_ sing._

_Well, I guess hanging out with Avenged Sevenfold must've revived my musical side. _

I shrug, then carry on rinsing my hair, singing louder and revelling in the fact that nobody can hear how off-key I am.

Ten minutes later I wrap a towel round me and step out of the bathroom, closing the blinds and switching the TV on. I only stayed at the gig for an hour, so it's not that late; settling on the couch with a beer, I get ready for an evening of watching whatever trashy cop shows are on.

* * *

By half eleven, I start to feel tired. Getting up, I walk into the kitchen, dump my empty beer bottle in the sink, then head for my bedroom.

Suddenly I freeze in the doorway, one hand creeping to the door-frame where I keep a stiletto knife taped to the inner edge by the wall. Removing it silently, I turn around, prepared to meet whatever had just walked across my apartment. Too loud to be a cat; too quiet to be a human.

"Evening."

My head whips round and I feel a strange mixture of shock and relief. "Johnny? What the hell are you doing here?" I ask in disbelief, tossing the knife into the sink with a clatter. He takes a step forwards, and despite my hurt feelings (and the fact that I'm only wearing a towel), I can't help but smile as he wraps his arms round me, holding me close.

"I've missed you," he whispers.

"I've missed you too," I reply, and it's true. I wouldn't admit it to myself before, but it's why I risked going to see him tonight.

He's changed his hair; I hadn't noticed it before. Now it's darker, and shorter at the sides with a spiky stripe down the middle.

"Saw you earlier. Why'd you take off?" he asks, letting me go and frowning slightly.

"Too much of a risk. Speaking of, aren't you risking somebody getting suspicious, coming here?" I fold my arms over my chest so the towel stays put.

"They don't know I'm here." He waves a hand at the couch. "D'you mind? I'm beat."

"Be my guest." I sit down too, watching as he leans back, closing his eyes.

"Ah... That's better. D'you have any idea how heavy that guitar is after two fuckin' hours?" he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I would offer you a drink, but..." We both chuckle, then I frown slightly. "So where _do_ they think you are, then?"

"Strip club," he replied, casually.

"...Right." _Naturally. _

"So they won't be expecting me back till late... Or tomorrow..." He trails off, gauging my reaction.

My frown deepens for a minute. "I'm still pissed at you, by the way."

"Thought you might be." He grins cheekily and turns slightly, offering me a free jab at his side. "I'm still ticklish, if you want payback?"

"Nah, too easy." I lean over and move as if I'm going to kiss him, then pull back at the last second. _I'm going to make you _suffer_, Johnny Christ..._

Within seconds, my towel is gone, as are most of Johnny's clothes, but I don't let him have his way just yet. No; pushing him back down on the couch, I sit straddling him, my fingertips tracing circles across the smooth skin of his chest and stomach, slowly moving downwards. His eyes close slightly and he bites his lip, but it's not until he's almost begging, head leaning back and eyes closed, that I relent. From there, the evening dissolves into a whirl of heat and feeling that takes us all over the apartment, neither of us surfacing until late in the night, when we pause only to stumble drunkenly into my bedroom in order to continue our activities in a more comfortable location.

* * *

The first thing I'm aware of when I wake up is that I'm not alone. Turning my head slightly, I spot a tattooed hand resting on my stomach. _Funny, I never noticed his tattoos before. Guess I was distracted..._

"Morning," he says cheerily, sitting up and looking down at me with a smile. "Breakfast?"

"Mmm hmm." I raise my head and peer out of the bedroom door. "...Whoa."

"Yeah, we got some cleaning up to do." Johnny grins and sits on the side of the bed, then looks around. "Where'd my clothes go?"

"Um, the couch, I think. And the floor. And the kitchen." We both laugh.

"I didn't even know it was possible to _do_ that in a kitchen sink."

"Mmm." I rub my eyes, then sit up, reaching towards the bedside cabinet. Opening the drawer, I pull out some panties and an oversized black T-shirt, ignoring his theatrical groan as I partially dress. "You. Go find some clothes," I order, pointing at the door.

"Fine..." He pouts, but does as he's told.

Getting up slowly, I stand in the doorway for a few seconds, then walk into the kitchen, pleased to see we haven't broken anything. _Well, nothing valuable, anyway_, I amend quickly. The small stack of crockery that had been on the counter by the sink was now on the floor in pieces. _Oh, well. They're just plates. _I step over them carefully and reach down under the sink, grabbing a large bowl and a frying pan.

The fridge is pretty empty, but it's got what I want: eggs, butter and milk; flour and sugar come from another cupboard.

"What're you making?" he asks over my shoulder as I spoon flour into the bowl, counting the spoonfuls.

"Five...Six. Pancakes," I reply, rolling down the top of the flour bag. "Pass the sugar, would you?"

I glance over at the rest of the room as he hands me the bag of sugar and my jaw drops.

"That was quick." The couch cushions are all straight, the floor is devoid of clothes and all my books are back on the shelf. It actually looks tidier than before we started making the mess.

"Wait... Did you arrange my books in height order?" I ask, grinning.

"...Maybe."

_I didn't know vamps could have OCD._

"Yeah, well..." He looks away, embarrassed, and I smirk slightly, then start cracking the eggs into the bowl.

"Can I help?" he asks, watching me stirring.

"Sure, the syrup's in the top cupboard, plates are down the bottom. Forks are in the drawer."

"Kay." He gets things out and sets them on the counter, then leans against the fridge and watches me cook. The pancakes don't take long; I amuse him by spectacularly flipping the first few, then settle for just tossing them onto a plate.

"Dig in."

He obliges, smothering a pile of pancakes in syrup and demolishing them in seconds. "Wow. How'd you learn to cook this good?"

Blushing slightly, I hide my proud smile behind my hair as I turn back to the stove. "I used to watch my mom."

"Oh, right."

"You're pretty good too, though," I say, to divert attention from myself. "What's your excuse?"

"Food Network," he replies, with a wry smile. "Not much to do when we're not recording and daytime TV sucks ass."

I open my mouth to comment, when a noise makes me stop. "Shh."

He frowns, but has enough sense not to ask me what's wrong. Instead, he turns his head slightly and listens too. His hearing is much more sensitive than mine, but even he doesn't seem to pick up anything. I raise an eyebrow and he shrugs, then yelps. "Ow! What the-"

"Polo! Get off of him!" I swoop down and grab the cat, lifting her onto the counter. She fluffs out her fur, hissing at him; he takes a step back, holding his hands up. "Hey, it's okay," I say to him, seeing the look on his face.

"Cats don't like me," he says, keeping a fair distance away from the spitting cat.

"Alright." I grab her round the middle and haul her towards the bathroom door, shutting it in her face. "She'll get over it."

He laughs, running an arm round my waist. "What d'you wanna do now?"

I open my mouth to answer, when another hissing noise catches my attention. "Dammit... Marco!"

"Marco and Polo?" Johnny asks, amused, as I get to my feet and go in search of the troubled cat.

"Don't ask."

Finally, I locate him, cowering under the coffee table.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask, reaching under the table to try and coax him out. He swipes at me. "Ow!" I pull my hand back quickly. Two long lines are scored across the back, deep enough to draw blood.

"You alright?" Suddenly Johnny's there, his hand on my shoulder.

I hold my hand up ruefully. "Looks like they don't like me either."

"Actually, when I said that, I meant my _kind_. Vamps don't get on with cats."

"I thought that was just a myth." I frown.

He shakes his head. "Nope. But..."

"What?"

"...He wasn't hissing at me."

I freeze, looking at him with question marks all over my face. "Then who _was_ he hissing at?"

"_God_, you're slow!"

Both of us turn; behind me I hear the cat bolting into the bedroom.

Dark brown (almost black) hair frames her pale, almond-shaped face in a short bob. A pair of brownish-hazel eyes glitter as she smiles. Beside me, I feel Johnny tense, then almost instantaneously, he's standing protectively in front of me.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demand, wishing I was in the kitchen and could reach for a knife, a skewer; anything I can use as a weapon.

She tilts her head slightly on one side and frowns. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Johnny?" Her voice is soft, but with a definite edge.

"Johnny?" I ask, without looking away from her.

He doesn't speak, but his hand finds mine and grips it tightly.

The stranger laughs. "I'm Lacey."

* * *

**And you guys thought the last chapter was a cliffhanger! **

**...I'm mean, aren't I? :P**

**Well, next chapter should be up by the end of the week, so in the meantime, let me know what you think :) **

**xoxox**


	13. Chapter 13

**Left you guys on a bit of a cliffy last time, hope this makes up for it :)**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Avenged Sevenfold. Or Lacey. Oh, and as this is an entirely fictional representation of Lacey, I mean no offence to her by portraying her as a bitch; I'm sure she's a lovely person in real life :P  
**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

* * *

_**~Previously...~**_

_ She tilts her head slightly on one side and frowns. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Johnny?" Her voice is soft, but with an edge. _

_ "Johnny?" I ask, without looking away from her. _

_ He doesn't reply, but his hand finds mine and grips it tightly. _

_ The stranger laughs. "I'm Lacey." _

* * *

_**~Now...~**_

_Lacey? As in..._

"Yep. As in Johnny's girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend, as I recall it," Johnny says quietly. I glance quickly up at him; his eyes are narrow and his jaw is clenched, but when he speaks, his tone is perfectly steady. "What are you doing here, Lacey?"

"Are you fucking her, then?" she says in a conversational tone. "Never took you for a human-lover, but then, you've surprised me a lot over the years, Johnny."

"Why are you here?" he repeats, and now his tone's changed; softer, more menacing.

"It took me a long time to find you." She walks over to the couch and perches on the back, crossing her legs and balancing perfectly. Johnny takes a step to the left, giving me the opportunity to take two steps towards the kitchen. Reaching backwards over the counter, I grab a knife-handle and pull one out of the block. Now I feel a little safer; I have faith in Johnny, but I've learned from past experience that, in a fight, the only person I can wholly reply on is myself.

_No offence, Johnny_, I add, knowing he can hear me.

"None taken," he mutters with a quick grin. Then he raises his voice. "Are you here to fight, Lacey?"

She inclines her head slightly. "But not you, Johnny. The tradition when one moves in on another's man is to fight for him, isn't it?" She smiles sweetly at me, but Johnny shakes his head.

"I'm not gonna let you do that."

"But you can't stop me. Unless you're offering yourself in her place?"

He squares his shoulders. "Bring it on, bitch."

* * *

**(Switch to Johnny's POV)**

_This is unbelievable. _

Narrowing her eyes, she looks away from me to glare at Cass. "_This_ is what you wanted? Weak human girl, you must know that all he can offer you is death?"

_God, I thought she was over that..._ I can't quite suppress a flinch, but she continues.

"If not a quick death at his hands, then a slow, painful one, feeling the agony of old age while he stays young for eternity. Does that appeal to you, human?"

"I'd never hurt her," I snap, gripping Cass's hand harder.

"Not like you hurt me, huh? Did you _tell_ her about that, Johnny?"

_Johnny?_ She asks silently, looking at me questioningly.

_Please, Lace. Don't do this-_

"He killed me," she says flatly, staring at me.

I can feel Cass's confusion, but before I can start to explain, they both beat me to it.

"But, you're still-"

"_Alive?_ No. He took that from me when he made me like him."

"And I thought you were over that, Lace," I snarl, unable to contain my anger any longer. "You didn't seem so upset about it last time we met."

"That was over thirty years ago. I've had a lot of time to think since then." She puts a hand on her hip and says, "If you're not gonna let me fight _her_, Johnny, let's at least get this over with."

_She always was a violent bitch._

"My pleasure," I growl, letting go of Cass and pushing her firmly back towards the bedroom. "Wait in there, Cass. This won't take long."

"I'm not just gonna-" she starts to say, but I cut her off.

"Yes, you are. Now get in there." My tone brooks no refusal, and though she's protesting violently, I know she can see the reasoning behind my insistence. This is going to be violent, and I don't want her getting caught in the middle of it.

"Oh, how darling. Such sentiment."

"Shut the fuck up, Lacey."

"Make me." She pouts childishly, but I'm in no mood to play games. Sensing this, her eyes narrow and a wicked smile crosses her face, before she leaps to her feet and we start to circle.

For a human, the fight would look like something from a kids' cartoon, a lightning-fast blur leaving destruction in its wake. I wish I could send a mental apology to Cass as her coffee table is reduced to splinters, but even if she could hear me, this fight is taking all of my concentration. It's nothing like wrestling with the boys, or even like the amateur street-fights I used to get into back in the day; no, this is brutal. She's doing her best to kill me, and much as I hate it, I have to do the same.

Her fist swings round, aiming for my face; I block, but at the same time I catch a stray thought in her mind. My other hand shoots downwards, just in time to catch her wrist before she can plunge a knife into my stomach.

"You're quick," she comments, then spins away, still holding the knife. I only saw it for a split second, but that was enough for me to recognise the blade as one of Cass's. Which means it's edged with silver.

And it's extremely sharp.

* * *

**(Switch back to Cass's POV)**

This is torture; I can't see either of them clearly now, they're moving too fast. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of bared teeth, a splash of red blood, a flash of silver. But I can hear the occasional crash; can see the damage they're doing to my apartment while they fight. My coffee table is no more, my couch is heading the same way and I'm terrified they're gonna crash through the window.

The window... An idea clicks in my head.

_Johnny, if you can hear me, get her in front of the window,_ I think frantically, hoping against hope that he can hear me. He's got no way of letting me know, so I have to trust him to do as I say. Edging out of the room, I keep by the wall as I creep to the window. Neither of them seems to notice me; when I reach the window, I reach up to the rod that slides the blinds shut and (more importantly) open. Keeping as still as a statue, I watch as the pair of dark blurs get closer. _Yes! He heard me._ When they're close enough, I think quickly, _Johnny, cover your eyes,_ wait three seconds, then open the blinds, letting the bright morning sunshine stream in.

The blurs suddenly sharpen, becoming two human shapes standing stock still. Johnny's flung an arm across his face, shielding his eyes, but Lacey wasn't so quick. She screams, covering her eyes with both hands, and Johnny moves in a blur, wrenching the knife – _my_ knife? – from her hand, plunging it into her chest without hesitation. She stiffens, taking her hands away from her eyes to stare at him, even as blood start to run down her cheeks. That's what happens when a vamp who's not used to sunlight gets exposed without protection. I know that Johnny and the others usually wear shades, or contacts, but she obviously wasn't so well prepared.

"Juh...Juh...John..." she stammers, but her legs give out and she's on the floor before she can finish her last word, eyes glazing over. He falls to his knees and pulls the knife out, then drops it and puts his face in his hands, moaning.

"Johnny!" I quickly close the blinds again and run to him, kicking the knife out of the way and kneeling beside him. "Johnny?"

"W-water," he gasps, his voice hoarse. "Please."

"Sure. A glass, or...?"

"A...bowl would be better."

I run to the kitchen and grab a mixing bowl from the cupboard, filling it from the tap. As I carry it back over, I hear a ripping noise; he's pulled off his shirt and torn it into pieces. When I set the bowl on the floor beside him, he crumples up the first scrap and soaks it in the water, then presses it to his face.

"God, your eyes!" I can't help my shocked reaction, but as he lowers the blood-soaked rag and looks at me, I see that the damage looks worse than it really is. He can still see, and the blood's already starting to wash away.

"I'll be fine," he mutters, pressing the cloth to his eyes again and hissing in pain.

Now that I'm sure he's not going blind, I turn my attention to the rest of his body. He's covered in cuts, none of them longer than my finger but all of them bleeding profusely. Running into the bathroom, I grab the first aid kit which is, thanks to my profession, always fully stocked with bandages and the like. As far as I can see, none of the cuts need stitches – thank God.

The last thing I grab before going back over to Johnny is a bottle of whiskey from under the sink. It'll clean the wounds out, and help with the pain.

"Here." I unscrew the lid and pass him the bottle. He takes it from me and looks at it from under the wad of bloodied material for a second, then tips it and takes two long drinks, grimacing. It takes longer for alcohol to affect a vamp's body than a human's, and as I clean the cuts and bandage them up, he winces every so often. _God, he's a mess..._

I know he can feel how sorry I am for hurting him; no words are needed as I finish bandaging the last of his cuts and close the medicine box. Leaning back to sit cross-legged, I watch him as he takes the blood-soaked rag away from his eyes. Now the blood trickling down his face is replaced by what looks more like...tears.

This shocks me more than anything else. I've seen Johnny angry, I've seen him scared (well, more like _nervous_), but I've never, _never_ seen him cry.

He flinches as I put my hand on his shoulder (avoiding the bandaged areas) and squeeze lightly. "It's okay," I say softly.

"I've never killed before." His voice is dead, empty of emotion, but somehow that's worse than if he'd screamed it.

"I know." I remember how it feels to kill. I made a mistake, about six years back, and the wrong person took the bullet; I know how exactly he feels.

He looks for a second at the body lying beside him, then turns his face away with a low moan.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to draw his attention. "You did it for us. We're okay."

"Y-Yeah." He looks at me, his expression blank, then suddenly bursts out in a peal of laughter.

Frowning slightly, I squeeze his shoulder gently, wondering if I should be worried about his sanity. "Johnny, what's funny?"

"You're alive!" He says it in a tone of wonder, like he can't believe it.

"Well, yeah, last time I looked." _He's in shock..._

Turning slightly, he gingerly puts both arms around me and hugs me to him, whispering, "She was going to kill you."

"I know," I whisper back. "But you didn't let her."

He shakes his head slightly, then winces. "Ow..."

Letting go of each other, we sit back, still trying not to look at Lacey. Johnny's face is pale and as I watch his face, I notice his eyes are slightly unfocused. Vamps and humans don't have the same physiology as humans (obviously) but they are affected by things like stress and shock in much the same way.

"I can't...I have to..." He trails off without finishing his sentence, but I understand.

"You can go lie down for a bit, if you want?" I wave my hand in the direction of the open bedroom door. "I'll deal with this."

He nods wearily and, with my help, staggers to his feet. He waves me away as I offer to help him across the room to my door, instead stumbling in by himself; I hear him mutter fervently, "Thanks, Cass," then a soft thump as he throws himself onto the bed. I count four seconds before there's a sharp scrabbling noise; Marco bolts out of the room and seeks refuge in the kitchen, as far from the corpse as possible.

Silence fills the apartment. For several terrifying seconds, I feel like I'm about to either scream, faint or laugh. It's a horrible feeling, shock. Then, as Polo starts yowling on the other side of the bathroom door, my brain reasserts itself over my adrenaline and I can think again.

Following Marco into the kitchen area, I grab the phone from the counter. _Time to call in an old favour._

* * *

**Hey, sorry it's been a while since my last update :P I've started posting these on Mibba too, and it takes forever to code all the italics and bold stuff in -_-**

**Only one chapter to go! I'll try to get that up this week, so this is all done.**

**Thanks to those who've reviewed, you're all awesome!  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**Well, here we are: the last chapter. I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :D**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

* * *

"_Hello?"_

"Scott?"

"_Who's this?" _

_ "_It's Cass."

"_Oh, hey, Cass! How long's it been?"_

"I know, it's been years. Listen, I need a hand with something."

_ "What's up?"_

"I got me a dead vamp and no way to get rid of it."

_ "...Do I want to know why?"_

"No, you don't. Just get your ass over here."

There are a few seconds of silence, then I hear a sigh. _"I'll be over in ten."_

"Great. Thanks."

Hanging up the phone, I walk back round the mess to the bedroom door, poking my head round. Johnny's lying spread-eagled on his back on top of the covers, eyes closed, one arm hanging over the side of the bed. His face is paler than usual but there's no redness coming through the bandages, which is a good sign. _Poor guy's exhausted..._He's probably suffering the effects of blood loss – it affects vampires the same as humans in that they feel weak and lethargic, but it doesn't kill them. Still, probably best to let him sleep.

I walk quietly back to the living room. May as well make a start of cleaning up. I grab the rest of Johnny's torn up shirt, mopping up the worst of the blood and dumping the bloody scraps of fabric in a pile, squeezing the blood into the bowl of water. I'm in the middle of emptying and refilling the bowl for the second time, almost done with cleaning the floor around the corpse, when I hear a soft knock at the door.

"Who's there?" I call through the dooor without opening it.

"_Pest control._"

I smile at the old joke, then pull the door open. "Hey, Scott. Thanks for comin' over so fast."

He comes in, pulling a cleaning trolley behind him (you know, the sort you see janitors pulling around).

"Where's the- Oh." He stops in the middle of his sentence when he spots Lacey. "Right."

Scott was an old hunting partner of mine but we lost touch after I went solo. I haven't seen him since, but he hasn't changed. Still wearing the same faded sleeveless Metallica shirt, same blue jeans, same scuffed black Doc Martens. Even his hair's the same, still in its untidy, gingery-brown ponytail. Probably still got his old job at the mortuary, too.

If he notices anything different about me, he doesn't say anything. Instead, like the professional he is, he gets straight to work.

He works fast, removing the corpse from my living room floor and transferring it to the space under the trolley where the black plastic sides shield it from view. I don't watch, instead focusing my efforts on keeping Marco away from Scott while he works. It's not that the cat doesn't like him; Marco loves him, but that's just the problem. If I'm not careful, the stupid cat will walk through the blood and I'll be washing bloody cat paw-prints out of the upholstery and bedclothes for weeks.

When I next look over, I'm just in time to see Scott putting a bottle of bleach back on the trolley and removing a pair of heavy-duty rubber gloves. The floor is spotless; he's swept the splintered coffee-table into a pile and cleaned up the blood as well.

"Wow, good job. Thanks," I say fervently.

"No problem." He frowns for a second. "That was an awful lot of blood for just one person."

"Not your problem," I say quickly. "You don't want to know, trust me."

He still looks at me dubiously, but nods. "Alright. Feel free to call the cops in about twenty minutes. I'll dump her in an alley off Hickory Street."

"Okay. Thanks again, Scott."

"We're square now, yeah?" he asks, looking worried.

I chuckle. "Yeah, we're square. I won't be calling you for this again, I promise."

"Alright then. Good to see you again, Cass." And he's gone, taking the dead bitch with him.

* * *

About fifteen minutes after the door closes, there's another knock at the door. _Who on earth...?_

I've barely opened the door before it's pushed open, bouncing back against the wall. It's Zack, the others behind him. "What are you d-" I start to demand, rubbing my hand where the door-handle wrenched it, but Zacky cuts me off.

"Where is he?"

For a second, I think about lying, but his expression makes me reconsider. "He's in there."

He follows my pointed finger to the bedroom door, pushing it open. Then, seeing what's inside, he stops and turns. "What happened?"

"Long story."

"We've got time," he says. The others nod and they head towards the couch; two of them sit on it, another on the back, and Jimmy sits cross-legged on the floor.

"Alright, but I gotta make a phone call first." Going back into the kitchen, I pull out a disposable cell-phone from a drawer, switch it on and dial 911. "Yeah, I'm calling to report a murder. The body's in an alley just off of Hickory Street. What? You want my name? Sure, my name is-" I hang up the phone and stamp on it, smashing it under my foot, then toss the fragments in the trash and walk round the couch to perch on the edge of the TV cabinet.

"What was that about?" Jimmy asks, looking amused.

"Damage control," I reply shortly, then prepare to tell the gruesome story (with some edits).

* * *

"So...Lacey's dead?"

I nod once.

"And _Johnny_ killed her?" Zack asks, incredulous. "Not that I didn't think he had it in him, just that... He's never killed anyone before."

"I know," I reply quietly.

"How'd he take it?"

I don't reply verbally, but my expression seems to be enough.

"What's going on?"

We all turn to the bedroom door; Johnny's standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. He still looks terrible, but he looks a lot more alert than he did half an hour ago.

"How you feeling?" I ask as he walks over. Matt gets up to make space on the couch and he sits down gratefully.

"Great," he replies with mild flippancy, then winces. "What are you guys doing here?" He frowns.

"Lookin' for you, bro," Jimmy replies.

"Yeah, Lacey turned up and we figured that meant trouble, so..." Brian adds.

"Besides," Zacky finishes, "we could ask you the same."

For a moment, Johnny doesn't reply. Then, so suddenly it makes me jump, he's on his feet beside me, one arm round my shoulders. There's a very long moment of silence as the boys hear and digest what he's thinking.

Then, everyone reacts at once. Jimmy and Matt both exclaim wordlessly, Brian curses imaginatively and Zacky just blinks once, his expression frozen in shock.

"L...Love?" he says finally, his voice so soft it's almost inaudible.

Johnny nods defiantly; I feel it through my shoulder and take courage from his resolution.

"How is this possible?" Matt mutters, unknowingly repeating my own words from that moment, months ago, when _I_ found out.

"Does she feel the same?" Zack asks suddenly, looking at Johnny.

Indignation at being spoken _about_ instead of _to_ stings me out of silence. "I _am_ still here, you know!"

"Alright." He turns his head slightly to face me. "Do you?"

I don't hesitate. Running my arm round Johnny's waist, I hug him close and say softly but firmly, "Yes, I do." Johnny squeezes my shoulders reassuringly and we stand together as his brothers consider this new turn of events, talking amongst each other. I'm sure he can hear what they're saying, but a glance at his face only shows me he's thinking hard.

I've just started to feel a little nervous when they turn back towards us. Zacky walks towards us across the newly cleaned laminate, his expression unreadable. Inexplicably, I feel Johnny relax, even laugh quietly. Zack stops in front of us and spreads his arms slightly, hands open, then smiles at me.

"Welcome to the family."

**~FIN~**

* * *

**Finally it's finished! Thanks so much for your support and reviews, it means the world to me :)**

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**Till next time! ^_^**

**xoxox**


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